


The Suit Shaped Hole

by Scrabble



Series: The Fino Tales [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, But is a bit of a BAMF, Canon-Typical Violence, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Humor, M/M, Mass use of sarcasm and references to English stuff, Oral Sex, Q is not a blushing virgin, Romance, There's some plot in there, don't say you weren't warned cos seriously, everyone who ever mentions this fic, gratuitous use of capslock, so...yeah, sort've, talks about the capslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 57,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrabble/pseuds/Scrabble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a theory called 'The Sock Shaped Hole' which describes how, despite being highly improbable, socks just…VANISH in washing machines. This is the tale of 'The Suit Shaped Hole' in which Q assumes the washing machine of life will eat his chances of happiness when the most improbable circumstances appear, but in actual fact, gets a pleasant surprise after all when he takes the white wash out.</p><p>***COMPLETE***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a Brit, this is relevent because I've been told some of this will make no sense to other audiences because it contains references to British things like certain amusement parks. Fair warning!
> 
> This was written as a gift for the Bruce to my Tony, may you keep me sane forever more and stop neatly conning me into writing fifty page behemoths by giving me puppy eyes and telling me you have nothing to read. <3

“Sir…I…Isn’t there anyone else that could..”  
“No.”  
“But…surely there’s someone more qualified to…”  
“Not with your unique abilities.”  
“I couldn’t possibly just up and leave in the middle of the decoding of that…”  
“Q, I realise this isn’t really your first choice in assignment, but there is no one more qualified to do this and besides, you won’t be going alone. We‘ll be sending an agent with you to deal with any…practical issues you might encounter.”

Had the entire situation not rather blindsided him, Q was sure that he could have come up with a perfectly convincing argument for his absolutely NOT going on this hideous mission seemingly cooked up purely to torture him, but apparently even the swiftest of minds could be derailed by the simple and unassuming question ‘can you swim?’. Stupidly, of course, he’d been entirely too caught out for it to even occur to him to lie about it. Still, lesson learnt for the next time. If someone asked you if you possessed the sort of practical skill set common to children, SAY NO lest you be handed a plane ticket and told to pack your bags for the arse end of the Bahamas for a week.

And he was pretty bloody sure now that the swimming thing had been there exclusively to lull him into a false sense of stunned silence too.

Right, a little bit of focus might be required here because he was pretty sure M was still talking and Q had a poor feeling that he’d zoned out in a mild form of shocked panic quite a few vital sentences back.

“So, if you could have that ready before you leave, we’ll have a secure connection set up and waiting for you when you get there.” 

What? Oh god. Definitely zoned out and now there was more talking and the door was opening and Eve’s soft giggle floated in over the dull sounds of office work occurring in the distance, all of it barely registering because evidently his brain was swimming in something the consistency of jelly. Thank god he’d mastered the art of at least APPEARING to pay attention whilst mentally elsewhere during his second PHD and the endless all nighters. In retrospect, that bloody degree was probably responsible for his ending up in this job, so all things considered, he probably had a fair case should he ever decide to just sue the pants off of both the makers of ProPlus and Starbucks…

“Ahh there you are. Time keeping skills impeccably awful as usual I see, 007.” M was imperiously raising a brow at a point somewhere behind him and Q steadfastly refused to move, the best he could manage a slightly glassy eyed blink of quiet horror because…Oh. Oh god. An agent to go with him…couldn’t have been ANY of the others could it, no, it just had to be HIM. That grumpy old bastard who flirted like breathing and routinely dumped a shoebox of scraps at debrief with little more than a smirk and a snarky comment about equipment failures in the fucking field! EQUIPMENT FAILURES, the very CHEEK! 

Honestly, it was bad enough that he swanned about the place like he owned it, chatting up the lackeys and anyone else not on a pay grade high enough to have seen the mission reports riddled with lurid, barely concealed smut, the bloody man went and lived up to every single rumour. How in the world was that even VAGUELY fair?! Spectacularly attractive, deadly liability of a blunt instrument used with extreme prejudice...that Q was forced, under pain of death only mind you, to admit that he was not entirely immune to. JOY. Oh this week was going to just be hell in a hand basket wasn’t it.

“Terribly sorry, Sir, I was a little tied up.”

Q’s eyes reluctantly slid to the side, falling on an immaculate sleeve, the shirt cuff no doubt studded with gleaming, understated links and pulled just low enough to be glimpsed beneath the jacket whilst still hiding…oh good grief, fresh ligature marks. Urgh. Odds on those being obtained on a mission since 007 hadn’t been in the field for a fortnight after that whole…Berlin…thing…well, slim to none. Which could only mean the horny old goat had been rendered unable to touch something for SOMEONE’s pleasure. Probably just as well, Q decided, nose wrinkling slightly at the thought, god alone knew where those hands had BEEN before then.

“Q? Are you paying ANY attention?”

Gaze snapping up, Q was met with an amused, smug smirk he immediately wanted to punch off that craggy bloody face, even if he knew full well he was likely to break his hand in the process. Bugger the entire situation sideways, frankly.

“Yes Sir, I’m going to the Bahama’s to steal the protected digital records from an over ambitious drugs baron with friends in high places. Lucky me.” He managed, eyes once again firmly fixed on his superior across the broad expanse of oak desktop.

A familiar, distinct twinkle of something very akin to LAUGHTER was hiding in M’s face and Q was very sure he didn’t like it…

“Lucky you indeed. Off you go, see you in a week, and 007, do try to bring our major asset back in one piece.”

“Do my best, Sir.”

Yeah, completely sure he didn’t like it, especially when he was unceremoniously dismissed, trailing 007’s broad back to the door still in something of a daze that lasted right up until the moment Eve grinned at him from her desk and waved a pair of plain brown envelopes before his eyes.

“Your passports and documentation, also plane tickets, hotel reservations and everything else you’ll need. There’s a car hired for you…” She paused, a knowing look flicking over to Bond beside him before continuing,  
“No, it’s not a sports car. You’ll live. Q, your name for the mission will be Quentin, we didn’t bother even attempting a false identity for you, James, since you’re pathologically incapable of using them when we do and... congratulations both of you!”

There was an imperceptible moment where Q may have let that last section go as Eve just teasing him for finally being dumped into field work…but there was something in the way her eyes sparkled as she sat back down and beamed up at him that made him pause,  
“…sorry, why?” 

“Oh did I forget to mention? You just got married! Enjoy your honeymoon! I hear the beaches are beautiful!”

There were a thousand possible responses to that little tidbit of course, a mere 89ish percent of them suitable for a workplace but Q felt the one he eventually chose through his gob smacked moment of total mental seizure really best summed up his feelings on the matter in the most succinct, eloquent, if slightly hissed way,  
“I know your visa pin…”

The sudden paling of her face was the SINGLE thing that kept him upright and moving instead of flinging himself to the floor in the variety of tantrum usually only seen in bored toddlers. Bond, of course, hadn’t even blinked and somehow that just made it all SO much worse, as did the bark of laughter the bastard released behind him as Q turned and fled with something resembling his dignity still intact.


	2. Chapter 2

Fingers flexing around the arm rest of his seat, Q attempted to find the saliva with which to lick his lips and came up dry. Probably for the best because had there been any moisture left within his body not currently being exuded in a cool sheen of panic induced sweat, he was pretty sure he’d be throwing up by now. A plane. Why did it have to be a plane?! They couldn’t have sent him on a nice CRUISE, trains even, trains were nice! Lots of wheels, on the GROUND…not a massive, fiery ball of death suspended in the air with nothing more than unlikely physics and vast quantities of explosives strapped to each of it’s ungainly bloody wings and OH GOD HE WAS GOING TO DIE…

“Drink that, breathe.”

A blink and Q was faced with a miniature bottle of…was that RUM? And an immaculate, cucumber cool 007 dropping into the seat beside him like they weren’t about to hurtle down a runway to certain, hideous…

“BREATHE…in…out…in…out…”

There was a broad, callused hand on his chest and Q felt himself dragging in shuddering, uneven gasps of air as he screwed his eyes closed and attempted to match the even, level breathing of a man apparently immune to any variety of stress. Q would know. Ever since that first disastrous little jaunt they’d had through the tube he’d had a vital statistics monitor attached to 007 when on missions. Naturally the damn thing barely moved beyond normal parameters even when Bond had a gun to his temple and that was a scenario unhelpful to calming himself down again. Bugger.

Right, concentrate, calming things, the inside of his much abused brick of a laptop, as familiar as his own hands; the reams of code he’d bashed out sometime yesterday in order to have the necessary software ready to take on this godforsaken trip, those were nice things, all of them, bit like the solid, capable warmth of that hand on his chest, that was quite nice too. Oddly gentle for a man who still held the kill record for a single mission, but then, Q supposed, 007 had to have something going for him or that conga line of willing bodies he warmed every available surface with wouldn’t keep on coming would they. That was a poor choice of words…ew…

“That’s better. Weren’t kidding about the flying phobia were they…”

The hand slipped away and Q found his own in it’s place, pressing on the warm patch and clinging to his shirt as he rubbed the spot absently,  
“I just…think there are nicer ways to travel.”

Nicer, LANDBOUND…

“Possibly, but rather less SWIFT…and with less of a view.” It was the pause that made Q open his eyes once more and glance over to his companion just in time to see the charm ooze off him in the general direction of the stewardess with come hither eyes as she passed by on her headcount.

Good grief the man was genuinely incapable of thinking with anything outside of his perfectly cut, Savile Row trousers. How in god’s name did he ever usually make it through a mission without getting himself shot by irate women?! Well, alright, shot more than usual since he seemed to average about once a quarter which was impressive even for a double O, frankly!

“Cro-magnon man walks amongst us…” Q heard himself mutter with a slight, disbelieving shake of his head as he watched Bond actually LEAN around his seat back to watch the poor bloody woman’s passage down the aisle. REALLY, he was the sort of thing you read about in medical journals, a strange anomaly in the human genome that had managed to survive far beyond it’s natural time and somehow managed to evolve into a knuckle dragging, primitive, inexplicably attractive deadly weapon…TO SOME WOMEN. Obviously. Not attractive to intellectual men with veritable dictionaries of letters after their name and the ability to fell governments with a few keyboard strokes, all before breakfast. Absolutely not them. 

Still though, there was the niggling concept that medicine was missing out on the whole…animal magnetism thing that Bond seemed to have conquered without much effort. Pharmaceutical companies would WET themselves over the chance to bottle that and slap it into the hands of less naturally gifted individuals… Now THERE was an idea for later pondering…  
“Tell me, have you ever had your head examined for science, 007?”

“Have you ever managed a take off without a panic attack, Q?” Came the lazy, grinning response.

Oh.

Head whipping round to see the view from the window, Q was forced to admit that actually, being dragged into the deeper recesses of his immense mind whilst pondering the undeniable and frankly IRKING levels of charm that James Sodding Bond exuded like other men dripped sweat had…apparently…got him into the air without a single moment of panic.

Well.

“Drink your rum and relax, long flight and all…” And with that, the infuriating bastard slithered out of his chair and vanished down the aisle BLATANTLY sniffing after the poor bloody stewardess as if he were god’s bloody gift to women! Well FINE, at least ONE of them knew how to be a professional and get the job done without molesting half the population of an aircraft!

Huffily, Q cracked the seal on the tiny bottle and necked it in one, the warm burn that seeped into his guts causing him to wheeze out a breath as his hand slapped back to the fold down table with a quiet thump and he resisted the urge to cough up a lung. Oh god that was strong, why on earth did anyone drink that for FUN?! Urgh. Still, it had indeed taken his mind off things, he decided, airways no longer QUITE so constricted, perhaps he should just take a leaf out of Bond’s book and relax into the journey a little bit?

Everyone else appeared to be settling in happily, the quiet shush of book and magazine pages turning just audible over the hushed, distant conversation and tinny mumbles from the in flight movies headphones. Maybe he should read a bit and try to get some rest, god knows the flight was stupidly long, enough to terrify him when he’d Googled the distance they’d be travelling last night in a shaky handed misery. Book it was, books were distracting and he’d only just managed to get a hold of the new Game of Thrones, hopefully reading about someone having a far worse day than his own would be just the trick. Hopefully.

***

It was warm and comfy. There was noise, but that was ok because it would end soon and then it would be blissfully quiet again and Q could return to that lovely dream about the sentient weapons designs with the palm coded grips and ability to find their own way home even after bloody 007 had lost them somewhere obscure. He smiled at the memory, inhaling a deeply satisfied breath and wondering absently where that rather lovely smell of sandalwood was drifting from. Whatever it was, it was something lovely too, because it was warm under his cheek and…why was it moving…and someone was doing something nice with his hair and oh hell, now he was awake!

Blinking owlishly at his surroundings, Q struggled for a moment to quite fathom why there were peoples legs parading past him at eye level and then the whole hideous MISSION thing hit his brain with sickening speed and he lurched upright…from where he’d been asleep…on…oh god…Bond’s shoulder. Bugger.

“Sorry…I…sorry…jesus where are my glasses, can’t see a sodding thing…”

A hand appeared, the precious lenses perched in the gnarled palm like some obscure, foreign treasure,  
“Oh…thank you.”

Putting them on, of course, was an instant mistake, because then he was faced with a lazy, altogether too knowing smile and those piercingly blue eyes. How on earth had someone so obnoxious to the core managed to get those things?! Were they registered as part of his set of deadly weapons? Somewhere between the hand to hand combat skills and being stubborn as the proverbial mule? Urgh, life was so deeply unfair sometimes.

“We landed five minutes ago…” Bond’s entirely too relaxed tone managed to single handedly remove any lingering relaxation left in Q and immediately he felt himself bristle, hastily shoving his book and MP3 player into his jacket pockets as he struggled to get it on again in the confines of his seat,  
“Right, well, better get on with this then hadn’t we…” Q managed through gritted teeth as the infuriating man just smirked at him and stood as if he hadn’t just been pinned to a chair by a scrawny little body for…ow…quite some time if the ache in Q’s own shoulder was anything to go by. Wasn’t Bond a bit OLD to still be that annoyingly SPRY?! Did Her Majesties Secret Services provide a lifetime supply of cod liver oil to all it’s aging warships or something?!

His tatty satchel appeared before him as Bond raided the overhead locker, dragging out his own, rather less schoolboy briefcase once his hands were free again and awarding Q with a front row seat as impeccably cut suit jacket was applied to the distractingly tight stretch of shirt across solid muscle. Clearly 007 wasn’t quite finished being the walking spokesperson for the idea that a debauched old soak could still, inexplicably, manage to look like some battle scarred, Grecian god then. Life. Utterly unfair.

The thought persisted until the very moment they stepped off the plane and the warm, tropical air suddenly hit Q in the face in a wall of cloying humidity and heat that left him staggering as he drew in a gasp. Beside him, Bond grinned, producing a pair of sunglasses from a well disguised pocket and slipping them on, ridiculously relaxed, as EVER, and annoyingly prepared.

“What’s the matter, _Quentin_? Did you forget to take off your cardigan again?”

Bastard. Utter, UTTER bastard.


	3. Chapter 3

The journey to the hotel had at least been mercifully silent, Bond driving the amazingly beige hire car with the sort of barely leashed annoyance that spoke of a deeply frustrated man without the horsepower necessary to back up his need for speed. That was still better than, Q supposed, shoving his glasses up sweat slippery nose, being at the hotel where their cover, and therefore far greater interaction would really have to begin because that part…well, he could have lived without it. 

The mere concept of BOND ever allowing anyone else to get in the way of his VAST ego enough to actually settle down was laughable enough, the idea that it might be a MAN was even more hilarious, but then both those suppositions relied on you knowing the man and not merely his acting ability, which, Q had been told by no less than three rather dreamy eyed members of company staff, was somewhat legendary.

Frankly, at any other time under any other circumstances, Q would have rather liked to see what he was about to get a first hand look at…except with more distance, and without that soft, warm smile that was currently being cast in his direction as Bond pulled wide the car door and Q was left, blinking and stunned as he stumbled from the sticky leather and into the humid air.

“Why don’t you go and book us in, Quentin, while I see to the car…”

Right. Quentin. That one might take some getting used to, names were such TRICKY things when you spent your entire professional life being a highly classified letter of the alphabet.

A murmur of assent and Q attempted to slide past the solid expanse of Bond who was suddenly standing a great deal closer than he ever usually would have, getting in the way of the welcoming cool draft from the hotel lobby’s air conditioning as if he had every right to be within inches of Q’s person. More like half inches really, close enough to be able to feel the warmth radiating off him even through the altogether impractical clothing Q had worn to fly in. Bloody Bond was loving every second of it of course, the twinkling mischief visible in his eyes even as he winked and ducked to press a swift, warm kiss to Q’s pale cheek before vanishing back to the valet again. 

The cheeky bastard! Surely it wasn’t right to just go around doing…THAT without any sort of permission?! Alright, so human interaction had never really been Q’s forte or anything, but the tingle and ghost of the action on his face implied he should be quite grumpy about that later. Presumably when the flush wore off. Curse his fair skin and all it’s giveaway signs.

“Good afternoon, Sir, may I take the name?”

Oh god, he was being spoken to by a frighteningly efficient looking receptionist with a tan so deep it looked like honey,  
“Um…oh right, yes, the name…” He managed via another shove of his sliding glasses. Just get through this, _Quentin_ , and there was an actual bed and a shower on the other side of it…possibly even some TEA.

“Reservations under the name James Bond…” came the familiar drawl before a distinctly UNfamiliar arm was snaking about Q’s waist and frankly the man it was attached to was BLOODY lucky Q was both tired and unarmed because that hand was WANDERING over his hip now,  
“Excuse Quentin, it’s been a long flight, hasn’t it darling. He still hasn’t quite woken up.”

Ohhh that was just below the belt. As was the hand, since it had somehow managed to work it’s way back to delve under rumpled jumper edge and grab a healthy handful of Q’s backside! Well FINE, if that was how it was going to bed, Q decided, nerves and tiredness entirely vanishing in the face of a challenge, two could play at that game.

“Hmm ohh, was I being a little VAGUE again darling?” He purred, casting the most innocent lash bat available to his repertoire at Bond’s amused eyes before ducking to nuzzle into the tanned throat that was visible above that ridiculous blasted suit,  
“You know how I get when I sleep on planes, it just takes it RIGHT out of me…I could sleep for a week… _if you’d let me_ …”

The minute tensing of both the muscle he’d draped himself against and the arm around him was enough to bring a smug curve to Q’s mouth, pressed against Bond’s pulse where it would be more than felt as the challenge it was and for a moment, Q allowed himself a moment of pride, dimly aware of the receptionist cooing over the apparently adorable couple they made before FINALLY handing over the key cards and sending their bags off to be delivered to their room.

“You’re going to enjoy this, aren’t you…” Bond murmured, tugging Q along, arm still wrapped around him and for all the world appearing like a doting couple exchanging small talk on their way to the lift down.

“You started it, 007, I merely ended it!” Q grinned quietly, making a suitably, overly surprised face as the painfully luxurious lift pinged open in front of them and allowed him to step out of that decidedly over warm, half embrace and into the entirely mirrored interior under his own steam. 

The grin he got as he met blue eyes in the reflection was frankly dazzling and Q forgave himself for the suddenly firm grip he caught on the handrail as the lift began it’s ascent. Not so much the pathetic pink tinge to his cheeks mind you, that one he was going to have to work on, but baby steps!

Sadly that was as far as the thought managed to get before he was whipped round, back pressed up against the glass and Bond’s entire body crowding into the tiny amount of air left between them,  
“Oh this is just the start… _darlin_ …” the giant bloody bastard purred, PURRED, like some lazy great cat deciding whether or not he could be bothered to bat his catch about a bit,  
“Now play nicely for the camera…”

Eyes following the quick flicker of a gaze upwards, Q’s hazy brain took a moment to register the little mark that showed the lens, hidden away in the top corner of the lift before he fixed Bond with a level stare as fair warning that the game was officially on and draped his arms around solid shoulders, going limp against the wall and letting his head thump back, the very picture of lust struck weakness,  
“Oh _James_ ….” he breathed, doing his level best to imitate the simpering tone he’d overheard via earpiece from Bond’s conquests a hundred times during missions, quite well at that judging by the immediate drop of those pale eyes to his mouth and the sudden tightening wall of muscle barely a hairs breadth from him, HA! One to the cerebral at last!   
“We shouldn’t…not in the LIFT…” he added huskily, throwing in a truly transparent lip bite and cow eyed stare up.

Oh yes, this he could get VERY used to. Bond in stunned, dark eyed, heady silence that lasted for a whole three seconds, Q counted them, before the doors pinged open and Q raised a brow at the immovable mountain caging him against the wall,  
“This is our floor… _darling_ …”

“They have no idea what you’re capable of back home, do they. And if they do, they don‘t pay you enough…” was the somewhat unexpected and rumbling response, tinged, Q noted, with both fond amusement and the kind of grudging respect Bond usually reserved for gadgets that didn’t break despite his best efforts. Always nice to know you rated somewhere on the same level of usefulness as a radio transmitter and a compass!

Drawing in a satisfied breath, Q ducked beneath the arm that had held him against the wall and curiously stepped out into the cool, air conditioned corridor with a grin cast over his shoulder as he spoke,  
“Ohhh…just the look on your face was reward enough! Now which room was it?”

That wasn’t even a lie, that look and the one’s that had followed it through to the current, rueful head shake were the sort of thing Q could merrily replay for YEARS when his ego needed a minor boosting…well, he _said_ minor…

“524 you cheeky baggage, come on!” Bond managed around a huff of laughter, catching Q’s wrist and towing him in his wake as he strode down the corridor.

“Is the manhandling STRICTLY necessary?” Q asked somewhat petulantly when at last they stopped, Bond fighting a one handed, losing war with the electronic lock whilst the other seemed to have taken up permanent residence attached to Q’s in a warm, surprisingly gentle grip.

“Absolutely, now I know what I’m up against I’m keeping an eye on you at all times…OH FOR FUCKS SAKE…what’s wrong with a KEY…an ACTUAL key, with a keyring on it and…oh…”

The tirade was cut pleasingly short when Q reached his unattached hand around, plucked the card from Bond and inserted it the CORRECT way up in the slot, the light blinking green and clicking open before them.  
“Shall we?” 

 

***

There was only one bed. Realistically, Q had known that, honeymoon suite, cover story and all…but knowing a thing and being flat out presented with it as James Sodding Bond (and yes, when they got back, Q was actually going to change his middle name to that, thank you very much) was strolling through the room, peeling clothing from himself and making a beeline to the shower in a parade of far more tanned and scarred than should be good for you muscle were entirely different beasts.

It was a very BIG bed, granted, but once the bags had arrived, tips been paid and a swift scan of the room for bugs had been efficiently dealt with, Q was left standing somewhat awkwardly in the middle of possibly the largest hotel room he’d ever seen, watching an ohgodVERY naked Bond. Did the man have NO shame?! Evidently the navy and a subsequent stream of never ending, leggy female conquests had removed it from him completely until all that was left were those increasingly familiar eyes and the lazy grin Q was currently being awarded from behind the thankfully frosted glass wall of the shower,  
“Pass me a towel would you Q!” 

Forcing his legs to work before the blithering idiot saw fit to just stroll out of the shower arse naked and give him the kind of view he was likely to have seared into his memory forever more, Q blindly snatched a fluffy white heap from the neat stack on the shelf in the bathroom and threw it at Bond’s head with a huff before whipping round, putting his back to the sneaky bastard to speak without further trauma,  
“You’re sleeping on the bloody sofa.”

“Already?” Came the chuckling smirk from behind him, Q’s eyes narrowing as he pictured the many and interesting ways he was going to electronically make Bond suffer once they were home again,  
“And we so newly hitched too…trouble in paradise so soon…”

The latter half of those words were whispered so close to Q’s ear that he actually jumped, a soft curse on his lips at the cat like abilities attached to someone altogether too large to be that quiet naturally,  
“Jesus christ…someone should put a BELL on you…”

“Showers all yours… _darling_ …” was the smuggest of replies, Bond strolling past him and dropping the towel almost immediately, leaving Q to slam the bathroom door behind him merely to avoid the sight of ridiculously glorious arse on show yet AGAIN!

It wasn’t until Q had showered himself and managed to dig about in his suitcases for something marginally less likely to roast him alive in the heat that he noticed the pillow and blanket sat on the end of the sofa. The other end, annoyingly, was currently occupied by a shirtless, jean clad Bond methodically stripping down his Walther PPK on the coffee table as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Well, it probably was if your average day involved assassinations and the overthrowing of governments. Silly bastard hadn’t even objected to being evicted to the pretend marital doghouse. Oh bloody hell.


	4. Chapter 4

Re-con, Bond had said, that lazy grin he seemed to perpetually wear around Q sitting on his stupid face like it was taking up residence there. Re-con that had thus far involved an awful lot of Q remotely opening security gates and making sure the IDIOT he’d been dumped in this godforsaken (yes, it was beautiful, but 80% humidity physically hurt to move in, alright!) place with didn’t get shot at. Again.

Now, granted, Q hadn’t gone to super special spy school like 007, but he was pretty sure that even under the broadest of definitions, what he’d spent almost the entirety of their first evening on the island doing was actually closer to aiding and abetting bloody BOND break and enter. All, naturally, from the safety and comfort of their hotel room because apparently he would “slow up” his agent, who was, to all intents and purposes, TITTING ABOUT on a roof, trying to find a suitable place on the skylight to stick the little camera Q had designed for just such an event.

All things considered, Q decided, sighing heavily as once AGAIN, Bond had managed to duck out of the sight of the CCTV system Q had painstakingly hacked to keep an eye on the suicidal idiot, this was not really how he’d foreseen his jetlagged and exhausted first night going. Not that he had any clue how he HAD envisioned it, but breaking international laws had seemed more of a SECOND DAY sort of activity to him. Bond, NATURALLY, had other ideas though and so here they were, one watching impatiently, the other enjoying every sodding minute of it no doubt. Double 0’s, adrenaline junkies the lot of them.

“Put it on the cross bar, I need to be able to watch them enter their security codes or it’ll take me bloody hours to work out their ridiculous system.” Q muttered, sprawling himself more comfortably into the vast mountain of pillows on the bed with his laptop perched on bare, bony knees.

Wasn’t his MOST professional moment, really, nibbling handfuls of cashew nuts from the room service dinner he’d ordered for them both whilst watching his agent hauling his solid bulk over a wall, but you worked with what you had, right?!

 _“You might have to give me five minutes **dear** …”_ Bond’s whispered voice filtered into his thoughts via their ear-pieces,  
 _“It may have escaped your attention but I am currently climbing the edge of a BUILDING here…”_

Eyes rolling, Q reached over to snag another handful of nuts, gaze fixed on the miniature version of 007 doing just that on screen. Bastard wasn’t even out of breath, how the hell was that fair?!  
“Yes, yes, we all know how you double 0’s suffer in the field…all that glamorous travel, booze and women…however do you cope…”

 _“You could get your narrow arse up here and try it yourself you know!”_ Came the amusement filled retort and Q felt himself grinning as he watched the Bond on his monitor throw the nearest camera a swift two fingers.

“Oh goodness NO darling…” Q replied with a smirk as he quickly disabled the electric fence Bond was about to need to cross,  
“I’d only SLOW YOU UP, remember? Poor little me, of no use to man nor beast…that fence won’t kill you now by the way. You’re welcome.”

The huff of laughter in his ear sounded warmth inducingly intimate and Q pressed the cool glass his drink had come in to his suddenly pink cheeks, clearing his throat and attempting to fix his attentions back on the job at hand. Blasted man was altogether too good at distracting him when on the comm’s line and it would not do, dammit! It was bad enough when the silver tongued old bugger was on the line back at Q branch, where half the office listened in to their now infamous communications banter, placing bets on which of them was likely to get the last word in their verbal sparring. Having Bond so very literally to himself was proving to be the sort of quandary that Q’s vast mind struggled to handle with anything like LOGIC.

Was this why all those poor bloody agents that fell into missions with the man ended up joining the endless stream of his conquests? Did he just win them over by sheer dogged determination wrapped in unignorable charm?! What was that number hitting now anyway, because if you listened to Eve, and anyone with any sort of sense did because the woman had her ear to so many walls she might as well have just called herself gossip central, it was rather considered to be a THING. A sort’ve…non-exclusive club at the company. More…all inclusive, really…

_“How’s that for you, sweetheart? Want me to move it in a bit more?”_

Lesser men, Q decided, shaking off the moment of flat out gaping like a salmon he’d had in reaction to the leered words, would have turned that electric fence back on for that little slip of a forked, double 0 tongue, but Q was going to be a professional about this if it killed him. Or possibly Bond. HOPEFULLY Bond. Cheeky bastard.  
“That’ll do fine thank you, wouldn‘t want you straining yourself.” He managed primly, engaging the software needed to bring up the newly fitted camera’s feed and checking the image quality quickly,  
“Got it, you can get off that roof now if you’ve quite finished getting your cheap thrills.”

_“I’ll be home in twenty minutes then, gorgeous. Keep a bottle on ice like a good little wife and I‘ll see you‘re amply rewarded.”_

“Oh fuck off, just for that I‘m pouring it all down the sink.”

The gorgeous rumble of 007’s laughter was abruptly cut off in Q’s ear by the brutal stab at his keyboard, disconnecting their line even as he huffily kept his eyes trained on his agent on screen, watching the bloody great lummox shimmy back down the side of the building and off their quarry's property with not a care in the world. Urgh, did he have to make it all look so effortless?! Really?! It was the sort’ve thing that made lesser mortals feel entirely inadequate. If they weren’t blindingly intelligent, heads of MI6 departments, that is, obviously. Because Q himself was quite fine with the situation. Obviously.

Twenty minutes that Q IN NO WAY counted every single one of later and the door to the suite fell open with Bond’s nonchalant form sauntering through it,  
“Hi honey, I’m home.”

Carefully positioned in the middle of the bed with his book in a casual pose that he had IN NO WAY taken ten of his twenty minutes to agonise over and perfect, Q raised an imperious eyebrow, all prepared to make the bloody man’s evening an awkward punishment for basically ALL his past crimes…and then he spotted the gentle drip of blood that plipped onto immaculate tile floor, a scarlet splatter on white and he was on his feet before he could even have contemplated his own actions, previous plan forgotten.

“You’re bleeding all over the floor…” He murmured, snatching up Bond’s gore smeared hand and turning it over in his own to examine the row of tiny tears in the skin,  
“Barbed wire? I turned off all the electric fences…why didn’t you wear the gloves, you idiot…”  
“Didn’t see it until it’d done that…” Bond grunted in reply, suddenly a great deal closer than Q had realised, his breath ghosting in the tumbled mess of Q’s hair and making his head snap up to blink at the bright blue gaze resting, heavy and unblinking on him.

“Right…” Q managed weakly, shifting back enough to be able to draw a breath without inhaling the faint scent of sandalwood and gun oil that lingered on 007’s skin, because that was…well, it certainly wasn’t BAD, and that surely couldn’t be a good thing,  
“Well…these need cleaning, look at the state of you, you‘re a mess…”

It was entirely for practical reasons he kept holding the warm, blood slicked hand in his own as he tugged on it and dragged Bond into the bathroom. At least, that was Q’s story and he was bloody well sticking to it. Ha! Bloody well indeed. Oh god what was he getting into here…Eve would have apoplexies of glee with this if she ever found out.

“Fully trained medic as well as the youngest quartermaster ever? Just full of surprises aren‘t you...” Bond‘s voice hummed in the cool, air conditioned room, quiet and acquiescent for presumably the first and last time in his temperamental, obnoxious sodding life as Q nudged him back to sit on the edge of the vast bath, flicking the tap on enough to run a cloth under it and dab at the torn skin. Honestly, of all the times the giant great fool could choose to behave himself, he just HAD to pick the one moment Q was suddenly and inexplicably feeling distinctly wrong footed, didn’t he! Wrong footed, stuck in a foreign land and more tired than he could ever remember being before, even that time he‘d stayed up for a straight three days coding his first A.I.

Bastard.

“I thought at least one of us should care about your health, 007...” Q muttered, casting a swift glare up before he was forced to straighten, pressing the cloth to the back of Bond’s hand,  
“Since it’s not going to be you, that just leaves me, doesn’t it. Hold that there while I fetch the first aid kit.”  
“It’s just a fles…”  
Q’s finger, a pale, blood tinged single digit, rose so swiftly before Bond‘s nose, Q actually watched his eyes cross momentarily as they automatically tracked it’s progress and resisted the urge to smile,  
“Shut up right now. Flesh wound or not, you’re going to leak all over the place if I don’t dress it so do as you’re bloody well told and hold the damn cloth you obstinate great lump.” He huffed, storming out to fetch his field kit.

“If I’m a very good boy, do I get to sleep in the bed?” The grin filled call filtered from the bathroom and Q whipped round, striding back in with a narrowed eyed snarl to slap the little box onto the bathroom cupboard beside Bond. At least the contrary old bastard had done as he was told and stopped the bleeding. Small mercies were to be celebrated with 007, and Q was learning swiftly that if he was going to survive this week, he was going to have to pick his battles and grit his teeth.

“No you bloody well do not. You’re utterly insufferable, anyone ever told you that?”

“Often. With less style than you manage it though.”

“Good god, a red letter day! ‘Dear Diary, today I stated the bleeding obvious to an immovable object and he told me I did it with style! I can now die happy.’ Hold that…no not…yes, thank you…”

“OW!”

“Oh be quiet you giant child, you said yourself it’s barely a flesh wound.”

“One you just STABBED with a cotton bud dipped in acid!”

“It’s ANTISEPTIC, stop whining!”

“Your bedside manner could do with some work, Q.”

“Good grief, do you give EVERYONE who patches you up this much trouble or am I just lucky?”

“Just the ones that harpoon me with cotton buds…”

“Oh you POOR brave soldier, shall I kiss it better when I‘ve finished with the dinosaur shaped plasters?!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he could have kicked himself for them. Violently, with studded boots to the arse, especially since Bond had gone suspiciously quiet above him. Oh god. It was one thing to have an…alright, yes, TINY weak spot for this particular agents brand of charm, half of the bloody company had been in his shoes before, after all, it was practically a job requirement in that place. Sadly it was quite another to allow unguarded phrases like that past the brain mouth filter when you were on your knees wearing nothing but your boxers and a worn IronMan t shirt, next to aforementioned deceptively attractive, very literally bloody agent . Bugger.

“Yes.” Came the rumbling purr of reply and Q felt his eyes slide up, over the rumpled remains of Bond’s shirt, crushed beyond repair on his little adventure and into those disturbingly blue eyes just in time to get the sucker punch of an ending to the answer,  
“Repeatedly and with feeling.”

Oh bugger.

“I don‘t tongue open wounds on a first date…sorry…” he managed, inordinately proud that his voice only wavered slightly as he rolled to his feet, hastily shoving the unused bits of his medical kit back into the box to give him something to do with suddenly decidedly shaky hands. Oh this was not good, not good at all. Every inch of him was vividly aware of Bond rising to his feet behind him, not quite touching, but close enough that Q could feel the body heat at his back, the soft breath against his ear and the painfully soft,  
“Second emergency medical date it is then. Come to bed, Q, you’re exhausted.”

He might have fought it if it weren’t horrifically true, but as it was, Q just nodded, unable to meet Bond’s eyes in the mirror as he slunk from the room and headed for the vast bed that had been calling his name since they’d first arrived. Everything would be so much easier to deal with in the morning, there was nothing quite like a good nights sleep to get your brain back in order and god knew Q’s was a jumbled, flittering mess after the sort of day he’d just had even if you didn’t take into account the frankly unsettling level of ease he’d somehow fallen into when in Bond’s company. That one…yes, best not to consider that one too deeply, especially before head hit pillow for hopefully eight solid hours of rest. 

Behind him, the tell tale shush of clothing being shed brought a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks for the…oh god, embarrassingly high, nth time that day and Q didn’t even bother resisting the urge to groan as he collapsed into the downy bed, more than half asleep already. From somewhere in the distance, he was vaguely aware of Bond talking to him but it was just so much EFFORT to focus enough to speak that he gave up entirely, curling himself up in his pillow mountain and burrowing his face into the softness on a sigh.

“And you call me an idiot. Should have told me you were this tired…” The voice was closer now and there was a hand in his hair, just like on the plane, idly carding through the unruly mess of it in a way that was frankly ambrosial and made Q purr quietly,  
“Y’are n’idiot…”

Something about the whole situation was slightly…shouldn‘t he be less pleased at that careful hand in his hair? That soft chuckle somewhere off to the side? Or the fact that he hadn‘t fallen asleep over his laptop for the first time in…possibly ever… and was it really WISE to feel so very safe lying in a room with a man best known for the sheer body count he left behind him? Q was QUITE sure that in the morning he’d work out what it was that was bothering him about the whole situation, but that nice, low voice was just so comforting and the stroke to his hair so very gentle he couldn’t really find it in his sleep deprived mind to give a shit…

“Good night, Q.”

“mmg’night Bond…”


	5. Chapter 5

Mornings had never been Q’s forte. Not even during his student days, especially then, really, since he’d more often than not used the peace and tranquillity of the night to get done all the things he found himself just too distracted to manage during the busy, complicated days. Apparently jetlag served merely to assist in his bodies natural ability to attempt to be the worlds only nocturnal human, not really a shock, but still, did it have to be morning so SOON? Sunshine was for WIMPS, the night time, that was completely where it was at, he decided, gingerly cracking open one eye and taking a moment to assess the room that filled his vision.

Oh god.

Bahama’s. Hotel. Bond leaking all over the place and then...

Lurching upright in a head swimming action that he instantly regretted, Q took a moment to drag some air into his body and squeezed his eyes shut again, forcibly trying to grasp at the wisps of sleep hidden memories he could feel taunting him from the sidelines, like every bloody sportsday audience he’d ever been forced to see at school. They’d talked…possibly? DEFINITELY said goodnight, Q had patched up Bond’s hand, the same one that had…Q’s own reached up, dragging through the mop of curls on his head as if searching for evidence of the intruder that had touched them, not once but TWICE…and there were other images starting to filter through too, those hands on other parts of him far less innocent and far more dream fuelled and OH GOOD GOD, THAT WAS NOT A GOOD LINE OF THOUGHT TO FOLLOW…

“Anyone ever tell you you talk in your sleep?”

Oh of COURSE. NATURALLY that charming little habit would have resurfaced NOW, wouldn’t it, at the least appropriate moment KNOWN TO MANKIND. Dropping his head into his hands, Q bit back a mortified whimper and focussed on knowing that somewhere, maybe not close by, but SOMEWHERE there would be tea. He would find it if it were the last thing he ever did, and then he could drown himself in it…it was a fitting way to go, death by Earl Grey whilst in the care of the one of the world’s most deadly men, after all…maybe, if he were very lucky, the air con would remain on whilst he did it too, so he could expire with the last tiny shreds of his dignity intact and…

Oh.

“…ohgodtea…” He managed, shaking hands reaching for the wafer thin, bone china cup and saucer that appeared before his nose, the comforting, delicate scent of leaf based heaven drifting into his consciousness and shooing out the last few vestiges of sleep with a curl of steam.

“You said my name a lot…”

The first sip choked him and he cast the cup a vicious glare for being an outright traitor before risking a look up into the smirking visage that apparently very literally haunted his dreams. You could re-grow pride, right? It was a thing that eventually recovered even after being brutally ripped from you by disgustingly attractive double O’s? Surely it must be or half the bloody office back at home would have long since shrivelled and died. 

“Um…did I?” He tried for nonchalant, giving a tiny wince when it fell from his lips in more of a tentative question. 3/10, must try harder. Clearing his throat and fixing his eyes on a point somewhere to the right of Bond’s…oh GOD…really?! This was just MEAN now…BARE chest, he tried again, pleased when his voice hit something closer to normality,  
“Old habit, the talking thing, not the saying your…yes…sorry if I woke you.”

“Seems a bit unfair, really…” Bond replied, dropping himself onto the edge of the bed like he belonged there, his own cup of something that both looked and smelt like tar half empty in his hand and his thigh, thankfully covered, Q noted absently, in the jeans again, pressing against Q’s own hidden beneath the thin sheets,  
“You getting to spend the evening moaning my name when I don’t even know yours…”

Oh.

OH HELL NO. THAT, that was not happening and the idea of it was enough to finally get Q moving with the sort of speed that would have impressed even him on any other day as he scrambled for the other side of the bed in an undignified escape attempt. Sadly even on his better days he wasn’t going to quick enough to out move BLOODY 007 however, and it was with a frankly pathetic ease that the evil, tea delivering bastard caught at his wrist and settled him, with a shockingly gentle nudge, back into the warm spot he’d been sat in as if he weighed nothing.

It should have bothered Q on more than the one, immediate level of panic, really, and later he suspected it might, when logic kicked in again, but for now, he was internally quite impressed that the first thought into his frantically peddling mind was ‘oh god that’s hot’. It wasn’t helpful though, whichever way you wanted to look at it, when you were attempting to get out of revealing personal things you’d rather stayed hidden forever more, to suddenly realise the man holding your hand with the sort’ve smile that had probably weakened knicker elastic for a hundred mile radius was attempting to get into YOURS.

Not that Q wore knickers. Well, there had been that one time at uni’ with the…that was entirely irrelevant, no, this was one of those situations which the phrase ‘NOT A GOOD THING’ had been invented for. That much, he was very sure of.

“Yes…well…it won‘t happen again…” he began, desperately scrabbling for a way out of this hideous car crash of a conversation and getting more than a little bit caught up in the wide grin on Bond’s face as he watched the pink flush Q could FEEL rising over his face appear. Fucking GENE POOL, honestly, why was he CURSED with that fair skin that gave away his every thought…

“Didn’t say I minded the moaning part…” The smug git said with a quirk of a brow, a dangerous sparkle in his eyes,  
“Just that I find myself lacking in vital information I’ve decided I need. Badly.”

Tea or not, swallowing was suddenly immensely difficult for Q to manage, so he settled on a slightly strangled attempt and drew his chin up on a deep breath. He could do this, he’d faced down armed men and had combat training for fucks sake, he could absolutely manage one, overly familiar double O and his enquiring bloody mind!

“It’s classified…” he replied breezily, tugging himself free of the barely there grip Bond had on his wrist and slithering from the bed in the general direction of the bathroom, intending to lock himself in there until he’d regained something resembling his BRAIN again,  
“So you can bloody well stick with calling me Q like everyone else and like it.”

Not that Bond had EVER called him Q the way everyone else did. From his minions back in the branch, it was an honourary title, from Eve, an affectionate letter applied to a friend, from M…well, that was really more of a security thing but from Bond, it had always sounded dangerously like a pet name. Even from that first, stumbling meeting.

This week had better hurry itself up a bit…this was not going to end well he decided, peeling his sticky nightwear from his body and staggering into the shower, because Q flat out refused to be another bloody number in the long, LONG line of Bond’s conquests.

***

 

An awkward breakfast eaten over the sounds of Bond attacking his morning fitness regime, which, quite frankly, Q would have found hard to watch on anyone, let alone…yes, well, it looked like normal people would die attempting it and gave him a certain happy satisfaction to blithely ignore whilst flicking through the morning paper and stuffing his face with bacon and eggs. Tomorrow, he decided, swigging back the last of his orange juice, he might add some sausages into that mix just for extra calorific content based irony too.

Over the not terribly distant, yet horrifyingly efficient press ups that did increasingly nice things for the view, Q resorted to checking the overnight footage from the camera Bond had placed the night before and heavily resisted the highly unprofessional urge to snap a quick photo on his phone to send to Eve. Not that it wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before of course…her…MOST of MI6...but still, best not to give her the wrong idea about the situation and besides, she was likely to just show it to M and that…would be bad. Staggeringly, hideously bad.

With a slight wince at the mere thought, he curled his long legs into the chair under him and settled into work mode, shoving his glasses up the slope of his nose and flexing his fingers over his keyboard as the software he’d built before they’d left England did it’s job, dragging up the pertinent sections of video for him to screen for any sections showing inputting he could use. This, Q could handle, the streams of code and decipherable letters he slowly assembled into working access codes for them to use later, Q’s razor sharp mind finally on line properly after a decent meal and his precious tannin based breakfast tea.

He was dimly aware of Bond moving about the suite around him, a sort of peripheral knowledge that was nothing like the way he worked back in Q branch, surrounded by the movements of his minions and only vaguely noticing they were even there half the time. Bond’s presence around him was an almost tangible thing despite the soft footed walk and deliberate care the man was making to remain quiet and allow Q to focus on the task before him. Strange how the heavy presence of another around him was suddenly very NOT a bother, Q realised, his fingers pausing their lightning dance across the keys to ponder the thought a little harder. Usually, that would have irritated the hell out of him, his minions knew full well not to wander into his eyeline when he was concentrating on something especially thorny, yet here was Bond, strolling about like he owned the place and Q found it…oddly comforting. 

Well. That was new.

“What is? Found something?”

Ahh, had he said that out loud…that wasn’t a good sign…

“Yes, you did, I take it the tea didn’t quite knock all the cobwebs out then?”

Full concentration shot to pieces, Q blinked owlishly, forcing his screen blind eyes to focus on something other than the now paused scrolling text and finding an altogether too relaxed Bond before him, hip resting against the table as the entirely too confident for his own good bastard grinned down at him through the crunching bite from an apple he’d apparently acquired from the fruit basket. He was still only in those bloody jeans and if Q didn’t know better, he’d say the lack of shirt had remained a deliberate ploy too. Bastard. What on earth must it be like to be that aware of what your own body could do in any given situation?!

“Codes…” Q managed, hand blindly seeking his long abandoned cup and having it unexpectedly handed to him, refilled with steaming, warm, delicious tea before he’d even registered the motion. How did he DO that?! A quick glance to the clock in the corner of his laptop screen showed that he’d eaten his breakfast a good three hours ago, which surely meant fresh supplies had been brought up without his even noticing…which…was just…

“You got me more tea.” He began, completely sure that his brain to mouth filter was as shot as his reasoning and logic since he really hadn’t intended that to escape beyond inner monologue.

“You drank three cups before you noticed? Christ, you really don‘t do mornings do you.”

“No I bloody well don’t, it may have escaped your attention 007, but not all of us were born to…” he paused, the hand not gripping cup like it was a lifeline, gesturing vaguely at the lean stretch of Bond’s body in an all encompassing moment that Q felt made his point more than adequately, thank you very much,  
“Be YOU!” He finished with a solid nod for emphasis that also allowed him to neatly ignore the grin Bond was giving him that suggested he was simply an adorable child the grown up had to pacify.

Was it really so much to ask that he not be QUITE so godawful attractive in the sunshine that was filtering through the open blinds?! Did he ever have a day of NOT looking like he’d fallen out of the pages of Vanity sodding Fair?! There was something undeniably WRONG about someone who could look that good messily destroying an apple whilst slouched against a breakfast table making Levi’s model’s whimper in envy, dammit!

Manfully resisting the almost overwhelming need he had to hiss at those blasted blinds that meant he too was sat in a shaft of sunlight and had only just realised, Q frowned into his cup and huffily stretched out his aching leg muscles with an awkward fidget of pins and needles induced numbness. Fantastic, so in the space of one day, he’d been exposed to more heat than he’d ever felt in his entire life, washed literal blood from his hands and been mocked, mercilessly and ruthlessly by a man who’d apparently made it his life’s work to remind lesser mortals of all the things they’d never attain. Really, he decided grumpily, all the day needed to just top it off was a call from…

The vibrating ring tone from Bond’s mobile on the table was loud enough to startle even the grinning idiot himself, the apple core slung carelessly and yet with immaculate aim into the wastepaper bin in the corner with the sort of casual ease that made Q grimace and want to formulate trajectory tests to see if that was just blind luck or one of those skills they gave you in double O training. Garroting, knife skills and implausibly excellent aim with whatever projectile was to hand? He should ask Eve about that one when they got back. After he’d faced yet more ritual humiliation at the hands of that phone currently settled in Bond’s deceptively gentle hand and being put on speaker. Oh good.

_“How’s it looking then gentlemen?”_ M’s tinny voice filtered through the air as Q massaged his temples with tea warmed fingers, calming himself down fractionally.

“Camera in place, sir, we need one more nightshift watch to be recorded before I can get the last of the codes and then we’re in.” Q managed, deliberately not looking at the way Bond had automatically fallen into parade rest at the sound of M’s voice over the line, an instinctive habit that at any other time, Q would have found quite amusing…when the giant lug was wearing merely a second skin of denim and a pale tan, one or two other words sprang to mind to describe the sight, most of them unsuitable to be thinking when on the line with their joint boss. 

DISTRACTING, yes, he was going with that one, that about covered it.

_“Survived the flight then, I take it Q?”_

“Yes…thank you sir.” Hopefully the sound of teeth grinding would be audible enough to prevent that line of questioning going any further…  
 _“Bond yet to blow anything up too? Surely a new record! I should send you two out together more often…”_

At that one, Q did risk a glance up and was met with rolling blue eyes that induced a huff of laughter he swiftly disguised as a cough, the pair of them grinning at each other like naughty school children in the headmasters office for a moment,  
“I’ll do my best to blow up several things tomorrow to make up for the day off, Sir…” Bond said, remarkably straight faced when you considered the laughter dancing in his eyes and not for the first time, Q found himself wondering how someone that weather worn could have quite such a NICE smile…

_“I have no doubt you’ll have caused an international incident before teatime Bond, let’s not add to the diplomatic woes shall we. Report in when you have the codes, both of you. Good luck.”_

And with that, the line went dead, Bond reaching down to disconnect it as Q let out a huff of breath,  
“Bye to you too, Sir, oh no…no don’t worry about us, we’re fine…really, your concern is deeply flattering, obviously, but don’t let it keep you up at night or anything…tatah!”

It took a moment for the rumbling purr rising from Bond to register with Q as laughter, the rusty, rarely used kind that sounded as if it found an outing once a year if it was very lucky and Q suddenly found himself obscenely flattered to have been the cause of it. Probably wouldn’t do to sit there grinning up at the man like a love struck child though…even if it was proving more than difficult to look away when Bond was relaxing back into his previous spot against the table, all louche relaxation and twinkling eyes

“He wished us luck, that was practically a heartfelt declaration for M!”

“You have no idea…” Q muttered, eyes widening at the realisation of his words because, god help him, that was a line of enquiry he was not about to hand Bond and his annoyingly perceptive mind on a platter! Diversionary tactics were very definitely needed now, and quickly, because those shrewd, knowing blue eyes were trained unwaveringly on him again as if they could read his secrets.

“We should go out!” he blurted, nervously sliding to his feet and fiddling with the hem of his t shirt. Possibly not the best choice of words available if the rise of a pale brow was anything to go by, but Q was nothing if not a thoroughly determined man when under stress, so this…whatever the hell you wanted to call…this…was nothing! Totally manageable. Probably. How hard could it be to manage to keep your identity from an internationally infamous spy with a license to kill, right?! This? Cake walk!

“I mean…” he drew in a calming breath, nodding at the ridiculously beautiful view visible from the window,  
“We can’t do anything until I have the footage from this evening’s night shift…so we should go and…pretend to be tourists…or something.”

“Or something.”

“Yes, well, you know, whatever it is people on holiday do. To maintain the cover, that sort’ve thing.”

“Q…we’re supposed to be honeymooning in paradise, what do you imagine the hotel staff THINK we’re doing?”

He blinked in confusion, evidently it was enough to show his lack of comprehension of the situation because that smug git’s mouth was tilting into The Smirk TM, that thing that seemed to be entirely owned by 007, his signature leer, one might say, one that suited him painfully and was worryingly effective at that. Damn him.

Ahh.

Well, when he put it that way, it all seemed just so much WORSE somehow and Q was deeply and entirely sure he was never going out in the stupid field ever again. Honestly, he just was NOT built for this sort’ve thing, he was a technical GENIUS for Christ’s sake, his was not a face built for this level of believable lying and yes alright he might POSSIBLY have been entering the MILDER END of a panic right now because AN ENTIRE HOTEL THOUGHT HE WAS CURRENTLY SLEEPING WITH JAMES BLOODY BOND OH GOD…

“Q! Stop having entire conversations in your own head, would you?! Contrary to popular belief I can‘t read minds…especially not yours!”

Rough, steady hands were on his arms, giving him a gentle shake to snap him out of the whirlpool in his mind and Q found himself staring into an amused pair of blue eyes yet AGAIN.

“What’s wrong with my mind?” He muttered indignantly, reaching up to huffily shove his glasses up the slope of his nose and feeling the frown that met his finger at the top. Honestly, the bloody cheek of Bond! Strolling about manhandling him like he had every right to put his hands on…yes, well, it was just RUDE!

“Nothing’s wrong with it…” The voice was suddenly a lot softer and a lot less…BOND and a lot more James in a way that made Q hesitate to move lest he break the oddly intimate moment that had appeared from nowhere…and there was just no way he was going to examine his reasoning behind that one, not until he’d heard the rest of what the man was going to say on the matter…

“I just never have a bloody clue what’s going through it.” Bond continued gently, his grip on Q’s arms a barely there stroke that brought up goosebumps in it’s wake, the calming of a skittish creature prepared to run at any moment. Abstractly, Q wondered if there was an animal alive the Bond Charm failed to tame. Bastard.

“But I’d like to find out.”

Oh.

Oh that was just playing dirty.

Was this stage two of the seduction routine then? The slight chink in the armour being shown like a banquet invitation to the starving woman? Well, man in this case. In fact there was a point, had 007 ever actually pulled this on one of his own sex before? Bloody felt like he had, it was smooth and practised enough to have had more than a few previous outings and he was just so GOOD at the casual touches and barely there smiles, the long looks from across a room whenever Q raised his head and caught the man and his SODDING BLUE, BLUE EYES that defied every known law of genetics and when they got home, Q decided with a shaky breath he would deny to his dying bloody day, he was going to find out why those lethal sodding things were that colour if it killed him, and yes, that was clearly enough thinking because Bond was watching him with that fond, soft smile again.

“Well…” Q managed, clearing his throat and backing up a step to put some safety distance between them,  
“Maybe a day being a tourist’ll give you some insight into how us lesser mortals operate…”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Q gets to cut loose for a bit!

It shouldn’t have been as easy as it was, Q decided, licking his way through his second ice-cream cone of the afternoon and watching Bond delving about in his jeans pocket to pay for them, this oddly close little friendship they’d struck up over the course of a mere day together. Before all of this…well, you could best describe it as company sanctioned madness really, since they’d never have ended up here any other way, but before, their interactions had been entirely professional.

Well, ok, mostly professional. Sometimes. Perhaps it would be better to say that fleeting professionalism could have been discovered on the comm lines when someone was shooting at Bond and Q was attempting to prevent his early but many would claim much deserved demise. Yeah, that was probably less far from the truth than any other at least, run with that explanation. Either way, the rest of the time they’d had a sort of…mocking alliance that revolved around them spending a great deal of time doing what everyone else called ‘flirting’ and what Q personally preferred to refer to as ‘verbally sparring’, since he’d never been any good at flirtation on any level and Bond…well, he breathed, he flirted, it was part of his DNA, doing it in Q’s general direction was just affirmation that he had a pulse and could reply, certainly nothing more.

Not, he would admit, that Q hadn’t pondered the idea. Because he’d definitely pondered it. In some depth, in fact, whilst over hearing snippets of less than subtle conversations from the women who’d strayed into Bond’s path over the years and been mown down by his infamous inability to resist trying his luck. The case files were thick with it, testimony from a thousand shattered hearts left in the endless wake of a man hell bent on working his way around the globe one bed at a time. What would it be like, he’d innocently wondered in the safety of his office, to be on the unfettered end of the Bond Charm Offensive when he was ACTUALLY trying, as opposed to lazily throwing it out there on base instinct and boredom alone.

Well. He was pretty sure he was looking at the answer right now as it wandered back to his side like a prowling big cat on the beach front, content, for now at least, to walk with rather than simply devour it’s prey, and the thought was not a discomforting one…which…should probably have been Q’s first tip off that maybe, just MAYBE he was getting a TOUCH out of his comfort zone…

Bond grinned at him, nodding his thanks as Q handed over the slightly melty ice cream he’d held with his own and Q allowed himself the moment of watching that altogether practised tongue lap at the thing like it was ambrosia. Jesus. Comfort zones, they were boring, boring places. He’d never really been one for boredom as a hobby when dancing on the fine line of things was just so much more…HIM.

“You look worryingly relaxed…” he managed, unable to stop the ice creamy smile that spread across his face with the words.

“Haven’t had a whole 48 hours without someone trying to kill me for years! Course I bloody am!” Bond chuckled, the laughter on his face taking years off him in a heartbeat and leaving Q wondering if there was a CCTV centre he could hack just to get an image of that to keep. James Bond truly at play, the rarest of sights in the known western world and Q said as much, companionably nudging the bulky shoulder with his own as they strolled.

“Never say you’ve missed the reports on my usual playtime! Rather slack of a department head!”

Q failed entirely to hide the snort of laughter the very idea caused within him, his giddy contentment allowing him to childishly make the short hop up onto a low wall that showed where the beach ended and the hotel grounds began once more, walking along the top of it with his ice cream free hand on Bond’s shoulder for balance,  
“Ohhh I read them all, don’t worry! All your sordid little tales are quite safe with me!”

He paused his careful walk, giving his dwindling ice cream a thoughtful lick before unsteadily turning on his perch to tilt his head and raise his brows at his companion, enjoying being able to look down on the utterly unrepentant face below him for once,  
“God knows they’d be of no use to anyone as blackmail material since you told anyone you met! Tell me, 007, was it REALLY necessary to send all those letters to Playboy? You know we know it was you…don’t you?”

The last of the cone vanished in a crunch of predatory teeth, Bond’s cackle around it both a heady, ego boosting delight and a knee weakening distraction as Q felt a large hand come to rest at his waist, at once holding him steady externally and very much UNsteady internally in that way that only someone gently sweating charm in the early evening heat could possibly have managed.

Then Bond stepped closer, the hand curling around Q’s narrow hip, thumb hooking into the belt loop of his jeans as the warm palm rested against him like it belonged there. Bloody felt like it did too, an annoyingly necessary aid to life that Q was starting to wonder how he’d managed without. Was that how it started then? The 007 Disease? A gentle decline into the belief that without some form of touch every hour, you’d wither away? He was starting to see why all those seemingly defiant, stand alone women had fallen over themselves for the lumbering great idiot now…not a helpful thought…especially when Bond’s face was tilted up, chin practically touching the thin t shirt Q had thrown on that morning.

Fuck. Practically had very suddenly become definitely, from chin to ridiculous washboard abs, pressed against Q’s suddenly breathless body like Bond owned it.

“James…” The rumbling purr vibrated through Q and it took him a moment to realise he was being spoken to, forcing himself to focus on the words because he was pretty sure he was supposed to respond to that, probably…

“Hmm?” He managed, choosing to ignore the part where his voice appeared to have run out of air and become merely a breathy gasp in sultry, sunset tinted air.

“My name…” came the bass heavy reply that Q felt as much as heard,  
“Is James…”

Oh god he was so screwed. Not literally, obviously, because he was pretty sure he could manage to keep it in his pants…maybe. NO, no, he could do this, because whilst he was FAR from ready to admit it even to himself, it wasn’t SEX he was worried about, it was something far less forgettable and that was as close as he was willing to go to the very idea, his brain helpfully skirting it and reminding him after a strangled attempt at breathing, that he was, in fact, an intelligent, eloquent human being even in the face of Bond…no…oh fuck… _James_.

“This is traditionally the part where you tell me your name, by the way…”

“It’s just as well we’re not really ones for tradition then, isn’t it…” Q managed quietly, the fingers he’d had on that thick shoulder had somehow managed to stray, entirely of it’s own accord mind you, into the short crop of blonde hair, prickly against his skin where Bo…James had had it cut before they’d left. The curiously gorgeous feeling of it had distracted Q enough to miss the moment when his hips became framed by both of those entirely too capable for their own good hands and his apparently inconsequential weight was lifted effortlessly from the wall to slither bodily down a frankly terrifying quantity of muscle.

Ohh god that really shouldn’t have felt as good as that, should it, Q’s thoughts stumbled to a halt when he realised he was currently entirely plastered to the rock solid body in front of him and he really should muster up some more righteous indignation over the whole…oh god he smelt nice.

“I…need a drink.” Was all that escaped him however, his hopelessly addled brain focussing wholly on the…wow…those little laughter lines were just so…lickable…OH THIS WAS BAD, this was very bad.

The step back he took went unresisted and Q wasn’t quite sure if he liked that or not when there was once again air between them and his fingers tingled from the rough crop of James’ hair. Jesus. He stumbled, a large, solid hand catching his elbow to hold him up and leaving him suddenly viscerally aware of precisely WHY the number of 007’s conquests was uncountable. Ohhh this was…yes, drink was needed now, drink and a GAP between him and…automatically his eyes strayed over the man beside him before guiltily sliding away again on a mournful whisper,  
“My ice cream melted…”

***

The ice cream, it turned out, had been the very least of his worries because now, a couple…well, a few…no…wow, were there REALLY five empty glasses in front of him?! That didn’t bode well, usually he was a three drinks or less kind of a guy at home, but then again, home was so very far away and beside him, James was a warm, solid presence, arm slung lazily about Q shoulders and the warm gravel of his voice a soothing reminder that Q was very definitely not in Kansas anymore, thank you very much Dorothy. HA! Appropriate or what?! Although really, it wasn’t a yellow brick road he was following and more of an obscenely beautiful pair of blue eyes…

And now he was just getting carried away with metaphors, a sure sign he’d had one too many if ever there was one! He should probably care about that, but god, not right now, not when the night was so deliciously balmy, the drinks so…FRUITY and with those little umbrellas in…god they were like knocking back 60% proof fruit juice and then there was the MUSIC!

“OH! I LOVE THIS BAND!” He heard himself exclaim, the heady, thrumming beats of Cream assaulted his ear drums and before he could really fathom where he’d found the energy, Q had stumbled his way unsteadily to the make shift dance floor where the few other late night occupants of the beach bar had congregated for the last few tunes.

It was amazingly freeing, he thought, closing his eyes to feel every beat of that heavy guitar throb through him as he let his body take over entirely, this odd knowledge that no one he knew would ever see him like this, that he was completely and utterly free and safe to do whatever he wanted for ONCE in his tightly controlled life. Safe from everything except those bloody eyes that he could feel on him even as he danced, a heavy weight that his sozzled mind welcomed thoroughly. 

Hell with it, he decided, lips curving into a smile when he felt now familiar hands land at his hips, fore fingers sliding up beneath his t shirt to smooth at the suddenly hyper aware flesh on his sides. Dancing was fine, a mere social activity, no harm in that, right?…and if there was, oh fuck it, Q just couldn’t find it within himself to give a shit when James was at his back, tugging him back against all that unyielding muscle and yet moving with him so sinuously it made his head spin.

That might have been the drink…but probably not.

On a dip of his hips that put him into…intimate contact with basically all of James, and god…that was nice…Q let his head fall back to the solid shoulder behind him, one hand reaching up to curve round into the sharp cut of blonde hair once more, welcoming the feel under his fingertips as he draped himself over his agent without a shred of shame.

“Didn‘t tell me you could dance…” James’ voice was a nuzzling murmur, mouthing aimlessly against Q’s ear in a warm, wet rush of air that had Q been marginally less TIPSY, thank you, he was absolutely NOT drunk, would have made his knees go out from under him. 

They might well have done anyway, he couldn’t really be sure since he was currently being almost entirely held up by that delicious pair of hands and oh…was that a thick thigh between his own…he should probably object to that. Maybe in a while, but not while the music was so delicious and one of those hands had slithered from his hip to spread possessively over his belly in a warm press of palm to bare skin beneath t shirt. That was…disarmingly distracting, to say the very least and god, sprawled over the man as he was, Q felt himself falter, the song was changing somewhere in the distance and the fingers on his stomach were smoothing in a gentle stroke that was suddenly just breath stealing.

Staggering slightly on a shaky breath, he felt James catch him, curling Q into his side and practically carrying him gently from the dance floor, soft, murmured words against his temple that Q was fairly sure James had repeated at least twice before they sank in and he muzzily made a curious noise enough to make his walking support try again,  
“I said, I’m taking you home before you fall asleep on the beach…lightweight…”

The last word, Q noted with a dopey smile, was said with such affection it almost hurt to hear it from James, of all people. Jesus, why was life so complicated…why couldn’t he have just met a nice man who worked a nine to five and wasn’t constantly out there, somewhere in the world, fucking and killing his way through Her Majesties official enemies when he wasn’t strolling about London giving suit designers happy, wet dreams. Life could have been so much simpler if Q had just…not been Q.

“Why’re you so bloody NICE?!” he managed with a heavy frown when at last they paused in the lobby of the hotel, James stabbing a thick finger at the lift call button, the other hand a sturdy presence curled around Q’s waist like a delicious, muscle and bone belt.

“Jesus, I think there may actually have been a compliment in there somewhere, careful love, you very nearly flattered me then…”

“Shurrup…you…ohhhh my god…this would have been so much EASIER ‘f’you were HORRIBLE…” Q mumbled morosely, burying his face against the tanned column of a throat that was so handily available next to him, exuding the scent of sandalwood, sweat and the whiskey James had drunk at the bar. A heady, tempting combination that Q failed spectacularly to ignore. 

The reasons for not doing this ASTOUNDINGLY stupid thing were there, somewhere in the dim, distance of the morning, but Q was finding it so hard to remember quite what they were. So hard, in fact, that for now he was willing to take as much as he could get from this man that was inexplicably allowing him the…and he wasn’t so drunk he was unaware of it either, just enough that he knew his pride was sobbing in a corner…ridiculous liberties. And tomorrow was just so very far away when James was so very close…

“What would have been? You still awake in there?”

There was a hand in his hair again, he could see it in the mirror on the inside of the lift and how had they got THERE?! Bloody hell, at least James sounded almost sober. He looked it too, looked for all the world like the caring new husband he was supposed to be at that, Q noted, glazed eyes taking in the picture they made in the reflection before him. Like this, his mind not the frenetic mess it usually was, and his usual tight control utterly shot in a succession of frankly lethal, fruit based cocktails, Q could almost see it. That impossible world where this could be them all the time, the solid, comforting bulk of an increasingly deadly agent and the lankier end of the boffin department…should have been a teen movie really, it had all the makings of a pathetically unrealistic romance about it, after all! Almost, but not quite. Like that time he’d caught a glimpse of a shooting star on CCTV footage and run to the window entirely too late to see it for real.

“Resisting…everything…” he mumbled against James’ shoulder, slumping there as he let the sudden wave of tiredness overcome him enough to distantly feel the grip on him tightening and James’ warm chuckle against his temple. How was one man so very COMFY to lean on?! That should have been wrong, surely…

“I might have a slight reputation, love, but I think I can manage not to accost you when you’re falling down drunk! Think you can stay awake a bit longer? Nearly there now and fucked if I can work the bloody electronic key!”

Making a vaguely awake sounding noise, Q allowed himself to be almost bodily hauled down the corridor, eyes drifting shut on a contented sigh,  
“You really are crap with tech…s’almost impressive really…”  
“Don’t need to be any good with it do I, sunshine, s’what I’ve got you for. Here, think you can get the door open for us?”

Forcing incredibly heavy lids open long enough to see the card being waved before his nose, Q reached for it, lazily sticking his tongue out at James when all that met his attempts was laughter. Yes, alright, there were some SLIGHT miscalculations on the distance between his wavering, spidery fingers and the blasted card which kept MOVING…or maybe he was…SOMETHING WAS either way and it was damnably tricky to get a grip on! Honestly, was it his fault if the room was just being petulant and spinning about like a crazy thing?! NO, no it was not! The bloody cheek of it. Bloody cheek of sodding JAMES too, finding the entire thing apparently hilarious.

Hand finally meeting card, he suspected with some assistance from his very hands ON agent, Q snatched the irritating little bastard object up and unerringly managed to unlock the door, a triumphant grin cast upwards and met with a huff of laughter and disbelieving shake of blonde head,  
“Only you could manage that whilst three sheets to the wind.”

“S’why I’m a technolo…technilig…GADGET GOD …” Q slurred with a happy cackle, letting his weight almost entirely slump onto his companion as they stumbled into the room and James managed to kick the door shut again behind them.

“Well Gadget God, I think it’s time for bed for you.”

Somewhere in the back of Q’s mind, he was aware that pouting like a child at the words was perhaps not really the reaction he should have run with. Thing was though, when faced with the plethora of other, suitable responses, the first and most shining of which was to beg James to go with him, Q decided, really quite solidly, that pouting was the lesser of two evils for now.

“But it’s so far awaaayyyyy…” he managed with a mournful gesture at what he assumed was the vast bed, floating in the middle distance in a hazy blur. That was a point, his eyesight wasn’t usually THAT bad, had drink made him BLIND?! OH GOD…

“What? No, don’t be daft, I took your specs off before you broke either them, my collar bone or both by shoving the bloody things into it!”

Oh. Still talking out loud then. Whoops. Well, that made a lot more sense at least, but still…  
“The bed’s STILL miles awaaaayyyy….”

“Good grief you’re adorable when drunk…alright, m’lord, one miles away bed brought closer for you…”

The world was tilting and Q released what he would NEVER admit was anything less than a manly squeak, scrabbling helplessly at James’ shoulders until he was securely pinned to that ridiculously broad chest and oh good lord, being CARRIED TO BED. What the fuck had happened that this was now his life?! It had, SNEAKILY and without any form of consent, officially been turned into a pathetic teenage romance novel and wow. It was just so NICE, even if the tiny quantity of sober sense that remained in his head was rebelling vehemently at the prospect of behaving like such a GIRL.

“I’m not a girl.” He said. Because it needed saying, clearly, since he was being oh so gently placed into the ridiculously soft bed as if he were the most precious of things and not a stupidly graceless, gangly head of department for MI6.

“You are not wrong there.” Was the fondly amused reply and Q frowned when the warm presence of James left his side by a few inches to tug his scruffy little Vans off wriggling feet before appearing again, close and smiling,  
“You are, however, going to have one helluva headache tomorrow.”

“Don’t get hangovers…why are you so far away?” And that was a VERY valid question, thank you very much, one which Q backed up with grabby hands that he dimly realised he’d be ashamed of making when the warm glow of the drink wore off. For now though, well, he couldn’t QUITE bring himself to give a fuck when James was toeing off his own shoes and settling in beside him like a furnace that was inexplicably prepared to cuddle Q’s greedily snuggly form.

He purred contentedly, settling himself against the solid body he was suddenly allowed to arrange to his satisfaction, curling in against the soft warmth of James’ t shirt and lifting his head in confusion at the rumbling huff of laughter he felt vibrate through his living pillow,  
“Dun laugh at me…you’re comfy…” He began, but then that underhand bastard fixed him with those bloody eyes, heavy lidded with relaxation and just so…blindingly…  
“You have the bluest eyes EVER…” Q sighed hopelessly, dropping his head back to that frankly delicious shoulder and letting his eyes close. Sleep was good, sleep was…and James was so…mmm.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before!

The beach was endless and picture book beautiful, the sun setting over the ocean in the distance in the way that Q had only ever seen in movies before, it was all so painfully gorgeous…well, not that annoying ringing noise, that was…what WAS that?! It sounded remarkably like…oh bugger, the beach was vanishing into the mist and Q came awake with a feline stretch that was distinctly and deliciously cramped by a heavy, solid weight against his back. One which was MOVING and that was bad. It was definitely bad, it had been all warm and lovely and now that godawful ringing noise was getting closer!

“Bond. Sir? It’s…I think around 9?…Is it? Well, live and learn…He’s here. No, asleep…Are you…no, but he’s utterly stupid before his first cup of tea, it might be…right you are, Sir.”

A big hand was sliding around his face, stroking his cheek with a rough thumb and nudging him awake as the other waved…urgh…Q’s mobile phone in his face and the number displayed was…oh this was not good. Caught apparently red handed curled around James bloody Bond in a kingsize bed, in a foreign land…all before TEA…and worst of all was the fact that he hadn’t even DONE anything to deserve the bollocking this was going to earn him! Fuck his life. Urgh.

Swallowing hard, he reached up to take the phone with only a small pause of trepidation. A fact which he was internally rather proud of, for the record, because clearly all that high stress environment work training was paying off! Who knew workplace seminars were actually worth a damn! Give him another couple of years in this whole ESPIONAGE milarky and he might have something resembling a career…assuming he survived that long…yay.

“M for you, he seems to think he can get through to you before you’ve had a cuppa and who am I to argue with him.” James murmured, an intimate purr against his forehead as the blasted man managed to turn into a particularly handsy octopus, enveloping Q’s sleep dopey self in the sort of embrace that could really ONLY be described as a CUDDLE, sprawled over a purring heap of muscle. James Bond, trained killer, lethal in every sense…TOTAL bloody teddy bear and wasn’t that just a thought that at some point, Q was going to have to take a moment to process properly because…SERIOUSLY?! 

“Sir?” He managed into his phone, propping himself up on a ridiculously pretty, t shirt covered pectoral and struggling to find anything resembling focus when the situation was at best MIND BOGGLING.  
 _“Good morning, Q, trust I’m interrupting your busy schedule. Status report?”_

Swiftly slapping the hand that had appeared on his arse until it lazily moved to his waist instead, delving under his rumpled t shirt in a smooth stroke that made concentrating…well, there just wasn’t enough tea in the world for this,  
“Aha…ha…well, Sir, I just have to work on the second set of footage and then…” He paused, attempting to steady his breathing at the entirely surreal sensation of being sprawled over that…oh god it was a really, REALLY nice…chest, and those hands were roaming him like they had every right to. FOCUS Q, Jesus,  
“Um…yes, I don’t anticipate any problems, Sir.”

_“Good. Move when you have the codes and don’t think for a moment we won’t be discussing just why 007 is answering your phone from bed when you get back, Q.”_

Dimly, Q was aware he should feel rather more shame than he was currently experiencing but the give a shit he should probably have been applying was failing in SPECTACULAR fashion. Mainly, he had to admit, in the face of the newly discovered knowledge that the gun calluses on James’ right hand felt frankly DELICIOUS when slithering up his spine and that was NOT a helpful thought right now. God.

“Yes, Sir, I don’t doubt it.” he managed, only SLIGHTLY breathlessly too, ten points to the boffin team, thank you!

_“Put the speakerphone on.”_

Or not. Bugger.

“Sir? I can pass a message if you…”

_“SPEAKER. NOW.”_

“Yes, Sir. You’re on speaker.” he mumbled, setting the phone down on James’ chest before burying his face against a shoulder on a sigh.

Oh god this was just a car crash waiting to happen wasn’t it, the sort of thing you remembered on your death bed with a cringe inducing wince that filled you with hot, rolling shame. Although, really, the fact that it was about to occur while Q was essentially using his double 0 agent as a gloriously comfortable, slightly breath stealing personal mattress MORE than made up for any later humiliation. Oh god, he was just so very beyond screwed at this point wasn’t he. Urgh.

_“Bond, you may recall I mentioned the importance of bringing our prime asset back INTACT?”_

“Yes, Sir, I think I have a vague recollection of your mentioning it.”

_“Good, then I would also like to remind you that I know where you keep your cars and I have an arsenal of explosives specialists at my disposal.”_

Under Q’s body, the rumbling answer rose in a blatantly self satisfied purr that made Q’s eyes roll,  
“Duly noted, Sir. We won’t hold up your busy day any longer, expect the report when the job’s complete.”

Right in front of his nose, a thick finger stabbed unerringly at the off button on his phone and Q felt his brows slide up, words escaping him before he’d even considered them fully. Brain to mouth filter clearly still tea fuelled then, good to know.  
“How the hell can you find the disconnect button on a phone I designed but not open a bloody door with an electronic card?!”

“Watched you using the phone.” Was the only reply he got before the object in question was unceremoniously tossed from the bed, bouncing into the sofa pillows with that infuriating aim and Q found himself flat on his back in the middle of the vast mattress. There may or may not have been a noise that had escaped him too, but he wasn’t prepared to dignify that hopeless squeak with any further thought. EVER.

“What’re you…um…” Speech was so HARD, words…oh god he needed tea, but the deliciously heavy weight of muscle that made up 007 was settling itself over him, James’ head cushioned quite comfortably, from the contented sigh the giant great lump released, on Q’s tiny, cake and chocolate made belly. That was…well, it was the sort’ve thing pathetic dreams were made of, really and frantically, Q struggled for the least sexy thoughts he could possibly conjure before the entire situation got out of hand. No, don’t think of the hands, periodic table, trajectory angles from that bloody Walther James insisted on carrying and no, this was NOT HELPFUL EITHER…oh god…

“Stop thinking, love, I can hear the cogs ticking from here. Go back to sleep.” The warm mumble into his skin sent a shiver over Q and he failed HOPELESSLY in keeping his hands off the crop of James’ hair. Odd, that feeling of it scratching against his fingertips felt more than familiar…as if he’d done it before…

“Still thinking…”

“Sorry…” he muttered automatically,  
“Just…um…what did we do yesterday?”

There had been ice creams and that embarrassingly glorious moment on the wall and then…

“You got trollied on hideous cocktails, demonstrated a marked sense of natural rhythm and refused to let me go afterwards.”

Well. Q’s eyes were open now. James, on the other hand, was becoming an increasingly relaxed, dead weight against him, clearly more than half way back to the land of nod as if the ENTIRE WORLD hadn’t suddenly been flipped upside down. Oh help.

There had been dancing…possibly…although it could more accurately have been called swaying to loud music with a jaw dropping lack of restraint displayed on Q’s part, and then…did he remember a discussion about technology? The entire thing was a muggy haze, frustratingly just slightly out of his mental reach and taunting him with the apparent ease that James felt in the situation, splashed over Q like a giant, purring lion at rest. What was he supposed to DO with that?! Of all the people likely to turn out to be a massively tactile, sleepy big cat, James blasted Bond would have been shoved into the ‘not in this life’ category within Q’s mental filofax, yet here the man was, an unconscious puddle of lethal force at rest.

Flat out asleep.

On Q’s belly.

Like it was the only place in the world he wanted to be and being pried off his newly claimed pillow would result in several lives being lost and a general air of murderous chaos overtaking the current warmth and peace.

Oh god it was far too early for this sort of thought and James was nuzzling sleepily against the soft fabric of Q’s t shirt, one hand framing a bony hip, pinning Q in place. The pull of sleep was drawing at him again, it would be fine, right? M was miles away, the work…well it needed doing, but it wouldn’t be of any use to them for HOURS yet and god the bed was just so comfy and James was…PURRING under the lazy ministrations of Q’s hand stroking against his hair…fuck it. Sleep was good for you and everyone was always complaining that Q never took any care of himself…


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a rare moment of serious conversation between two idiots on the cusp of something.
> 
> (Yes, you get two chapters today cos I couldn't upload yesterday and this will stick to my enforced writing schedule if it kills me...it's become a battle of wills now, mine vs the words! :-D)

Q was wholly unprepared to consider the fact that he’d soundly slept for another four hours wrapped in James Bond. If he started thinking about it in any sort of depth, he was going to just drown in the whole heady, so very wrong concept and…just no, he had work to do. Also, he was quite keen on keeping the tiny shred of remaining self respect he’d somehow retained through the entire disastrous few days, thank you very much, a thing which would be lost forever if he fell into the innumerable list of swooning fools left in James’ wake. Anddddd he was thinking about it all FAR TOO MUCH. AGAIN, dammit! 

It was just as well that the software was doing the bulk of the work for him because between his wayward brain and the fact that he’d slept forever, he was reduced to once again recklessly stuffing his face with the sort of cooked breakfast that could only be described as a heart attack on a plate. All whilst James did obscenely distracting things under the guise of a morning workout after eating his bodyweight in breakfast. Again. It was starting to feel like a way of life Q could get very, VERY used to and that was…wow, that was just the path to utter and unrelenting madness. Even if, he mused, head tilting to see around the side chair and watch James attacking sit ups with terrifying efficiency, these were sights he was pretty sure would be seared into his brain forever more. Q was no one’s idiot, he knew it simply could not ever last. He knew it. Realistically he knew it, but…god…it felt so curiously domestic in a way that Q hadn’t even realised he actually rather LIKED.

His laptop released a happy beep and Q’s eyes flicked back to the screen in time to see the results of his decoding programs work appear before him. Access codes to the secure network obtained and with merely that little graze to the back of one of James’ hand in payment! Thus far, this had been alarmingly simple…which almost guaranteed that something would go horrifically tits up at some point, but there was no point worrying about it now. They’d cope, they always did and oh for…when the hell had he started thinking of that twinkly eyed old bastard and himself as a TEAM?! That wasn’t good, was it. Did this count as Stockholm Syndrome? ‘In deep’ simply was not enough of a phrase to cover the sheer scale of Q’s demise and he dropped his head to thunk to his arm on the table with a soft groan.

“Regretting breakfast? Thought you said you don’t get hangovers…” James’ amused voice appeared at Q’s ear, warm, rough hands digging fingers into the tense muscles of Q’s shoulders on a staggeringly good massage. Of COURSE he was good at this, there probably wasn’t a female pair of shoulders under the age of fifty the bloody man hadn’t practised on…practise had very definitely made for perfect too. Bastard. Obscenely attractive, good with his hands…bastard…

“NgghhhIdon‘t…Ohgodthat’slovely…”

The shameless, utterly obscene moan Q released as those talented fingers discovered a particularly stubborn knot at the base of his neck should have shocked him, but it was just so GOOD, he couldn’t find himself to care. That…was a thought he’d been having a lot of late, wasn’t it, that couldn’t be a good sign for his will power levels. There was a definite need to man up becoming more obvious by the minute here…but bloody James and his deliciously rough hands were impossible to ignore. Especially when one of them slid over Q’s collarbone in a painstakingly careful move, callused thumb stroking up Q’s distinctly quicker than usual pulse as his head tilted under careful direction.

It shouldn’t have been as gut wrenchingly sexy as it felt to Q, sitting there with his life very literally in the hands of a man so deadly, his very name was a threat, but god…it was. It really was. An intimate, shudder inducing act of trust that dragged a broken breath from his lips as he waited for it, the inevitable moment James finally gave in to his reputation and threw out a proposition that Q was utterly unsure he was capable of refusing.

“You need to relax…” James whispered thickly against Q’s ear, ducking his head and pressing the most delicate, butterfly like of kisses to Q’s hammering carotid,  
“I need you calm when we go in there tonight, love. Quicker this jobs done the quicker I can take you out to dinner and I‘ve been waiting to do that for bloody months.”

“James…I…wait, what?”

He could feel the grin James pressed against his temple, unrepentant and tinged with smug contentment,  
“You heard me, now focus, Q, work to be done.”

Oh that was just…right, enough was enough, dammit! It was one thing for James to piss about flirting and causing Q no end of moral dilemma’s on a daily basis, but quite another for him to throw out something that CHEAP and expect Q to just…FALL FOR IT! Q, a man trained to be lethal with a computer, an intelligence that had been, according to his uni evaluations, ‘revolutionary’ and ‘destined for greatness’! To assume he was just going to roll over and…URGH, that was…god, just…it hurt more than it should have done. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it coming, he’d been more or less waiting for it since the first day after all, but that it had been so very transparent…

“That‘s the best I get after two days of you using me as a pillow?” Q managed, somehow, to shove just the right level of huff into his voice to hide the…well, other emotions he was trying desperately not to think about overly because hell if he was just going to let this slide. Casting an imperious glare up at the twinkly eyed GIT behind him when James’ hands stopped in their lazy administrations to his shoulders, he added quickly,   
“Did I say stop? Jesus, after a line that poor, the very least you can do is continue to attempt to soften me up with massages!”

“Q…”

Oh god, no, not sincerity and apologies, anything but that. Q was around half way to certain that he could cope with laughing the whole thing off and maintaining what was left of his dwindling pride as long as James didn’t keep looking at him with that frown of concern marring his face. Better to head it off at the pass, quickly, before his poor little bruised heart got well and truly stamped on.

Well…more than it already was, anyway. Jesus, he really had turned into a pathetic romantic heroine.

“Don’t you Q me!” He managed, batting ineffectually at the hands that had reached for him again, keeping him gently pinned in the chair as James dragged it round and raised a brow at Q’s flailing,  
“That was woeful and you know it.”

“I can assure you, you stubborn little bugger, if I wanted to run a line on you, I‘d have done it long ago.”

God he looked painfully honest saying it too. Those bloody eyes that defied any form of description not veering into the realms of hideous romance novel prose were fixing Q with the sort of look that fairly bled honesty and he felt his own close on a tired sigh, entirely incapable of looking at them any longer. The whole sorry debacle would have been so much less…just LESS…if it had only been a stupid, ill thought out shag while out on a mission and away from the comfort and restraint of home. THAT, Q decided with a sigh, he could have coped with, sure it would have SUCKED but at least he’d have known where he stood instead of this…TRULY pathetic attempt to get him in to a quick fuck by promising him so much MORE.

“Well…you ran it now, didn’t you.”

“No, I didn’t. You’re an idiot.” Came the swift and utterly unwavering reply.

That did get Q looking at him again, eyes snapping back open and a furious frown creasing his forehead,  
“You weren’t exactly PINING AWAY back at home, James! You turned up on the day we left with fresh tether marks on your bloody wrists for Christ’s sake! I‘m not BLIND you know!”

Ok, well, that…say what you really feel Q, jesus, nothing like letting it all go at the least appropriate moment eh! Oh god, why was it this man left him utterly unable to filter his own sodding speech?! It was ridiculous just how little control Q found he had on his own mind when in the infuriating presence of the man! For a second or two following his unexpected little outburst, there was silence, James blinking down at him in blank faced confusion before finally he broke into a stunned huff of laughter that had Q snapping out of his own moment of deer in the headlights freezing and into a flailing wriggle to free himself from the chair he was trapped in.

Not that he got very far before James had caught him again, brute strength gentled enough to very delicately keep Q where he was, one hand catching his face and forcing Q’s face up to look him in the eye as he spoke,  
“You really are an _idiot_. I didn’t get them FUCKING SOMEONE…I got them in training with Alec. Sly bastard bet me he could thrash me with one hand tied behind my back…”

“I can ask him you know. And check the CCTV.”

“Good, phone him now if you want. Tell him to move my Astons before M gets to them.”

Q frowned, chewing his lip as he pondered the absolute sincerity being presented to him in the form of an unwavering stare and those hands at his arms, almost stroking there rather than holding him down with any form of force. 

“The stewardess on the plane…” He almost whispered.

“Chatted her up to get you your rum before take off and slunk off to nick the good whiskey off her once we were in the air. You were asleep when I got back.”

Well. Damn. That…had not been the answer Q had imagined himself getting and really, when he looked back on this whole surreal experience, he had a feeling he was going to spend about a month kicking himself…possibly longer, depending on how well his ego survived the remains of the conversation…

“I’ve seen you lie, you‘re not usually this good at it. It always shows in your eyes.”

“You realise I lie to everyone else constantly and no one notices?”

“I notice. It‘s bloody obvious when you know what to look for…” Q managed, eyes sliding to the side as his hands fiddled helplessly with the seam of his jeans, anything to distract himself from the frankly breath stealing little grin that was creeping over James’ face. The smug bastard was resting his weight on the arms of Q’s chair, ridiculously toned biceps flexing distractingly at Q’s eyelevel too and that was just wholly unfair on every possible level in the universe. 

“Do you spend a lot of time looking at me, Q?”

Ohhh that was below the belt and smug with it, a fact which made Q twitch with annoyance.

“It’s my _job_ to watch you 007. Be grateful, if I wasn’t constantly playing big brother you’d have been a stain on someone’s wall months ago.”

“I rather thought we were past the point of codenames.”

Frowning his annoyance whilst shooting imaginary daggers at his own hands was failing to do very much at all for Q, so he lifted his eyes and fixed James with the sort of look that usually had the underlings running for cover back in the sanctity of his office,  
“You’re not past MY codename.”

“Not for want of trying, love!” James was looking especially unreal, hunched over Q in the low afternoon sunlight like some giant bird of prey hovering for the kill. A blonde eagle possibly, slightly dense in practical terms, but not without the brains to be trained. Tilting his head, Q assessed the face before him steadily, watching for any tell tale signs of the whole sorry affair being little more than a bored agent sensing a challenge but finding…not a one.

Alright, maybe calling the man dense was a bit harsh, there was a brain in there, an annoyingly perceptive one at that, and, well…he really didn’t LOOK like he was lying through his teeth either. God knew, Q had watched that happen via CCTV and his own equipment’s footage enough to have a good idea of what a Bond lie looked like, he hadn’t been making that up, so…that meant merely the one, highly unlikely scenario left as a possibility.

“I’m not into casual flings…” He managed sulkily because fucked if he was going to make this EASY on the lecherous old bastard. James had dragged his own reputation through the proverbial bordello, he could bloody well work on getting it back out again all on his own too.

“Neither am I.”

Q’s immediate and incredulous laugh must have struck a nerve because suddenly James’ jaw was set, his solid mass settling against the edge of the table in a ripple of overly tight t shirt and second skin denim that Q valiantly fought against watching as closely as he would have liked. Time and a place and all, besides, he was suddenly a great deal more interested in seeing where this fantastical explanation was going to go after a build up line like THAT.

“I do what I have to do to get the job done while I’m working, Q. You, of all people, should know that, you said it yourself, you watch me constantly.”

Q merely waited, a dark brow sliding up in silent invitation to continue and make it BLOODY good or never get to sleep on him again made very clear in his face. At least he hoped it was, because truth be told, he still felt distinctly out of his depth in the whole situation, but god, he was going to cling on with his fingernails if necessary because he had a feeling he’d somehow managed to stumble into something a great deal more complex than he’d ever imagined.

“I can’t promise everything’ll be perfect, it probably won’t be. Anyone sane would call me a sociopath with a gun. There’ll be times you want to shoot me with it at that and my history with long term…”

Even Q winced at that tailing off, the long dead spectre of the past rising between them in a sudden mental image of the case file, Venice and the carnage James had left in his wake as a memorial to a name no one mentioned out loud anymore. Vesper and her legacy were suddenly almost tangible before him and he found himself unable to resist reaching out to curl his fingers over the healing wounds on the back of James’ hand.

“Just let me try? If I fuck it up, M’ll probably shoot me for you. He’s…awfully protective of you...” James finished quietly, those annoyingly perceptive eyes watching Q intently for any clue of what might be racing through his mind and, Q hoped rather desperately, coming up short of the truth. Please god, because that was not a topic he wanted covered right now. Or possibly ever. Ever was a good choice.

Swallowing hard and quietly regretting that massive breakfast now his stomach appeared to have taken a trip upwards in…well, panic was the wrong word, mild terror? No, that wasn’t quite on the mark either. Heavy trepidation, that was on the money, run with that, because what else were you supposed to feel when standing on the edge of the worlds most well travelled precipice, deciding whether you were going to fall in?!

Well, no one had ever called him WISE, had they. Fiercely intelligent, determined, downright foolish in the face of a challenge if you believed the less flattering end of his psych evaluation or anything said about him by his family and the less mentioned on that topic the better, frankly.

“Alright, dinner then.” he began, lacing his fingers through the battered ones beneath his hand,  
“But if you fuck it up, I’ll shoot you myself, sociopath with a gun or not. I know where you keep your cars too you know! ”

The grin he got in return was breathtaking and made the giant great idiot look a good decade younger than he ought to. Evidently there was never going to be a time he was immune to that and didn’t James just know it too! Honestly, the look on his face was bloody SINFUL!

“You’re a smug bastard, you know that?” Q added with a broad smile of his own, unable to resist finally being free enough to say it all as he slipped to his feet and into the gap between James’ spread thighs, pressing in close and nuzzling at the blonde scruff of unshaven jaw to whisper,  
“Now stop distracting me and get off my work table so I can finish up and we can go home.”

“You’re going to make me work for this aren’t you…” James replied, rueful resignation in the rumbling baritone of his voice as Q rolled his eyes and shoved, hard, at the bulk of muscle against him, clearing his way back to his laptop and the thankfully uber efficient software that had finished pulling up the relevant keystrokes from the CCTV footage.

“Yes, yes I am! Now be a good boy and order some more tea would you? I have to write up a little bit of kit to hide our entry into their servers…”

“Yes, Sir…”

The slap that found his backside and shoved Q over the table was pushing it, but he let James get away with it purely on the basis that at least the bloody great cave man was TRYING…or as close to it as he was likely to GET anyway!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Q relaxes the rules slightly because, well, he's not made of STONE!

A quantity of tannin based, liquid inspiration later and Q nudged his glasses up, massaging the bridge of his nose and congratulating himself silently on a job well done. As had happened the previous day, he’d been vaguely aware of James pottering about the room around him as he’d worked, but now, as he stretched aching muscles and dragged himself from his chair, he realised with a sudden sense of alarm that he was actually alone in the suite.

Ahh. That probably wasn’t good, was it. Glasses sliding back into place once more, he scanned the room for any clues of his companions whereabouts, eyes flickering over the surfaces in search of a note, SOMETHING at least…

The blithering idiot wouldn’t actually have got cold feet that fast and just run…would he? He’d been pretty committed to the whole…alright, yes, it still felt utterly implausible, but he’d looked genuine at the end there, hadn’t he?

Just as Q was standing in the middle of the room feeling for all the world like he’d stumbled into the twilight zone, the door opened and there was James, a grin like Christmas morning had come early splitting his face and Q allowed himself the momentary release of breath that came on the back of a sudden calm. Jesus. He really had to get a grip on himself and just get through this insanity, then once they were home again, he could descend quietly into a mild panic over the concept that apparently now, this was his life…hanging about waiting for this idiot to remember where he’d left his favourite pillow.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?!” He managed, leaning rather heavily on the table in what was absolutely NOT relief, no, that was just TIREDNESS, thanks and the waver in his voice? Entirely down to the tea, dry throat, that was all.

The grin faltered and James was on him in a fraction of time so fast, Q absently found himself wondering if he had the gear necessary to measure it. Probably not without his main server at the office, he decided, slightly hysterically as he found himself crowded back against the edge of the table in an electronic and crockery rattling impact that he was pretty sure had dislodged the secure connection.

He rather hoped it had, anyway, because there were large hands sliding down the back of his jean clad thighs, a thing he could really live without being caught on the automated webcam of his laptop, frankly. Especially since he knew at least three of his minions had had a live feed on the bloody thing since he‘d hooked it up to the secure connection on arrival. He’d checked the IP addresses and knew they were from his own office, he wasn’t stupid enough to assume they weren‘t all merrily running a book on the likelihood of him giving in to the infamous Bond charm!

Well, not stupid enough to just up and GIVE them blatant blackmail material anyway, other things, however, he was pretty sure he could be sectioned for, this whole endeavour for one. Allowing them to book him into a hotel with a WiFi so HUGELY insecure he’d been forced to rig a connection with his secure phone line, that was totally another one…

Oh god the hands were moving again and blindly, Q reached behind him, spidery digits flailing until he found the edge of the keyboard, fumbling it hopelessly in shock when James reached down and bodily lifted him to sit on the edge of the table, slithering into the gap Q’s spread thighs made like an eel in fast moving water. This…Q whimpered breathlessly (and yes, alright, not the most manly of noises, but COME ON!), was going well beyond blackmail material and into the realms of abject mortification should that bloody connection still be in place…

“Went to change that godawful car for something with some poke to it…” James huffed against Q’s ear, his hands now contentedly delving under Q’s t shirt to smooth up his back in a silent apology that even Q had to admit more than worked. He should probably be questioning the ease with which he could read the giant great idiot…  
“Thought I’d left you here didn’t you…”

And apparently vice versa since…oh god. It wasn’t even given as a question, just the flat statement that Q apparently had failed to hide anything whatsoever.

“No…I was just…” Why was the blasted man always so WARM and impossible to ignore?! Q’s shaking fingers had managed to find the cable at least, that was good, now, to just rip the bastard object out before anything WORSE got caught on candid Bondcam…  
“Wondering…is all…” he finished on what even he recognised as a pathetic sigh when James buried his face against Q’s throat, inhaling him like he was the most precious of perfumes and leaving Q with absolutely no option but to curl his arms around broad shoulders and hold on. No other option whatsoever, stupid cable and smug little minions be damned, he could always wipe all of their hard drives later.

Wait, NO, this was ridiculous, he was a grown man and one painfully attractive trained killer nuzzling him like a bloody tom cat should not be enough to cause the level of weak kneed regression into teen hood that it apparently was managing with ease. God it felt nice though, one of the hands had found it’s way back out from under his t shirt and into the unruly mess of his bed worn hair, tilting his head to the side so a trail of lazy, open mouthed kisses could meander their way up his throat,  
“Not leaving.” Was murmured against his pulse and Q gave in to a rush of abject weakness, letting his eyes drift closed to just savour the moment for a little while. He could go back to being all grown up and serious in a bit, things could probably wait and thinking was damn near impossible under the circumstances anyway because he was about to get SOUNDLY kissed by…ohgodwow…

Realistically, he’d known that James, of ALL PEOPLE in the world, would have known how to kiss someone so they felt it to their toes, but apparently Q had DRASTICALLY underestimated the impact it would have on him! He wasn’t a stranger to lust, his university years had been a form of personal exploration in all areas of his life, not just his education, but he could categorically and resolutely say that NO ONE had ever kissed him like this. He highly doubted anyone else would again either, that endless ream of women who’d been right where he was now before him suddenly making so much more sense in a moment of blinding clarity that faded to nothing when he felt the stroke of a tongue against his own and gave up thinking entirely.

It was tentative at first, a gentle asking for permission that Q more than gave with a shaky breath that might have attempted to form a name into that ridiculously gorgeous mouth. After that, it was nothing short of a flat out demonstration of a master at work, effectively and absolutely knocking Q’s brain into standby mode and leaving him working purely on instinct alone as he gave as good as he got and strained against the solid mass pressing him down against the table.

“You have NO idea how long I’ve wanted to do that…” James was breathlessly muttering next to Q’s ear and nothing in the world had ever sounded more flattering than the idea that just a kiss had rendered the man empty lunged. Q had watched him run flat out for a half mile and barely even have a hitch in his voice at the end, to see James glazed eyed and panting over him was…well…fuck, if the minions hadn’t got that on tape, he was going to KILL them. Slowly. One by one because that was a thing he was going to need to see again. Preferably in high definition. Thank god he still had his specs on.

Dimly, he registered the less than comfortable feeling of the corner of his laptop beneath one shoulder, ignoring it in favour of licking at his kiss swollen lips and attempting speech,  
“Think…um…god, you’re…wow…think I’d like to know how long, actually…?”

Oh well done, lots of sense in there, words too, not that they were in any useful sort of order, but hey, start small and dream big, eventually you might manage a whole sentence or something! Possibly not soon though. Certainly not while James was a deliciously heavy warmth sprawled between Q’s thighs and propped on his elbows over heaving chest as Q fought to find something resembling a level head again.

A hand was sliding down his thigh again, distractingly hot even through his jeans and James cast him a dark eyed, heavy lidded smile as he hitched it higher against his hip until Q caught on and hooked his leg around the body over him. Alright, this was manageable, wasn‘t it? As long as he concentrated on not thinking about how much better this would feel without clothing in the way because…god…no, willpower, what the hell was that again? Surely at some point he’d had some, but stretched out over a bloody table beneath James Bond, Q was having difficulty remembering his own NAME let alone much else!

“Months…” James murmured, a fantastically filthy smile spreading over his face as he hungrily hovered over Q,  
“Since that thing in Israel when you told me where to stick it in the middle of a fire fight because I’d lost my transmitter and you were in a huff…before then even…”

“You tossed it into the Jordan, I think I had good reason to be mmpphhhffff…”

Q could get singularly used to being cut off like that when James was nibbling at his lower lip in that wholly distracting manner, teeth catching enough to tug at it before a wet, hot lick soothed the tiny pain away again and Q released a groan that shocked even him. Ohhh god this had to stop, soon at that or they were never going to get out of the room tonight to get those codes… Yes, work, work was needed and sensible and James REALLY needed to move because that was definitely not the Whalter pressing against Q’s hip and he sincerely doubted he had the sense to stop this while that MOUTH was on him. Jesus god it should be ILLEGAL.

Pathetically, he mewled into the gut wrenching kiss, his internal battle being fought tooth and nail for a moment before the tiny particle of logic left within him won out and he shoved at James’ shoulder enough to put air between them and regain some blessed focus,  
“Oh god, no, wait, stop…” He managed on a panting gasp, reaching up to press his fingers over that dangerous mouth and drawing in a shattered breath,  
“You’re…christ…persuasive, I’ll give you that, but we have to stop…”

“Do we?”

The words were pressed into Q’s skin, that talented tongue swirling around the tip of his middle finger in a thoroughly distracting manner that had Q’s hips lifting of their own accord for a moment before he wriggled himself higher up the table and marginally out of those questing hands. He chose to blithely ignore that the movement put his hips directly beneath that sinful bloody mouth, there wasn’t enough focus left in his brain to cope with even grazing that thought.

“Yes, yes we do…because…work…oh stop it you incorrigible bastard, stop giving me the cow eyes, damn you! You‘re supposed to be working for this!”

That infectious bloody grin was back on James’ face as he propped himself on his elbow and fixed Q with a look that spoke eloquently of every single filthy thought working its way through a mind well versed in such things,  
“You LIKE my eyes, you told me so!”

“I did not!…Did I?”

Had he? Quite a bit of that drunken madness in the bar was still something of a haze but Q was reasonably sure he wouldn’t have waxed lyrical about the excessively gorgeous blue…oh good grief, yes, that was quite enough of that! Some sort of sense needed to be returned to him right bloody now before he turned into a gibbering wreck and completely lost the plot!

“Yes, you did. Wasn’t your most eloquent moment, but then you were quite tiddly…”

Oh that was just…right, brain engaging time again, because really, being accused of getting ‘tiddly’ like a teenager with their first shandy was just beneath the pale for acceptable descriptions to be used on an MI6 head of department! The bloody cheek of the man, and after he’d got away with shoving Q over a table…wow…he was sprawled over a table, under someone who’s file had a massive red stamp saying ‘Dangerous and unstable’ on the front. God, they really didn’t know James Bond at all did they, because whilst there was no question in Q’s mind that James could be both of those things when he wanted to be, there were hidden depths in there that evidently rarely saw the light of day. Or table. Still on that table. Wow.

“You’re having discussions in your head again Q…”

Blinking back to himself, Q felt his cheeks heat at the words that had been spoken against his belly, risking a glance down and regretting it almost immediately when he was met with heavy lidded, gleaming blue eyes and a filthy smile resting just above the waistband of his swiftly slipping, suddenly excessively tight jeans. How in gods name was he THAT gorgeous…and more importantly, how on earth had Q never NOTICED it before?!

Alright that was kidding himself, he’d completely noticed, but it had all seemed so much more…out of reach before he was, well, pinned to table. That sounded bad didn’t it…  
“Sorry, bit…um…distracted…”

“Clearly not distracted ENOUGH if you can still think, you _did_ say I needed to work for this…”

The hand not currently occupied holding up that smug face was delving beneath Q’s t shirt again, rucking it against tanned wrist as fingers stroked upwards to bare a strip of pale belly and James ducked his head, swirling his tongue into Q’s belly button, tasting and lapping any skin it could reach.

“Oh GOD…” Q felt the thump as his head fall back to the table top again, his fingers finding that short crop of blonde hair and helplessly flexing within it.

“No love, just me, but do carry on, my ego likes a good stroking!”

“Your gargantuan ego needs ZERO bloody…OHJESUS…encouragement…OK, OK, YOU WORKED!”

“Was that SO hard…really?”

The biting retort Q had been well prepared to issue at that less than subtle line died on his lips when felt his jeans give up their pathetic last stand, the fly being effortlessly flicked open and when the hell had the devious bastard managed to get both hands down there to manage THAT?! Then that questing mouth was burrowing into his favourite pair of Batman boxers and it was pure instinct alone that had Q’s hips lifting into rough hands that dragged everything off out of the way enough for hot, wet heat to surround his aching cock and completely ruin his mind for good.

He was very dimly aware that at any other time, the wanton sounds he was making would have made him cringe in shame. Then again, in his defence, at no other time had he experienced James and his ohjesusgod AMAZINGLY talented, delicious bloody mouth edging him ever closer to what felt like mindless oblivion with a speed that should have been shameful. A warm tongue lapping and exploring between the hungry, groan vibrating suckling on the agonisingly sensitive head of his cock dragged the last, tiny amount of blood from Q’s brain and sent it hurtling down south to join every single particle of his focus until he was left unable to do more than sink his nails into broad shoulders and hold on.

Not that it was just that mouth either, one big hand had lifted one thigh to rest over James’ shoulder and was now pinning his writhing hips down with a grip that was just the right side of gentle, a bite to it that would leave marks that Q’s empty mind knew full well he’d foster for weeks just for the toe curling memory and the other…

“…James…I can‘t…” The breathless, warning gasp left Q on a rippling shiver when he felt a broad knuckle pressing delicately at his perineum, the softest of testing strokes as if unsure of it’s welcome. The warning went ignored too, James redoubling his efforts on a low growl that hummed through Q’s entire body and sent him freefalling into orgasm on a hoarse sob of pleasure, back curving upwards for a moment as he shuddered through it all, blindly unaware of anything but the starburst behind his eyes and the stroking touches that were seemingly everywhere at once.

“Hnngghh…” was Q’s eloquent yet highly apt first attempt at speech when at last, he felt something resembling sense drift back into him.

Frankly, he dreamily mused, James was bloody lucky to get any variety of verbal response after THAT, and when Q found his voice again, he was going to tell him so, in depth at that. For now however, he wanted…god…he wanted everything, and screw the fact that the odds where stacked so heavily against this whole doomed endeavour, sod the naysayers and the knowledge that, inevitably, none of this could last, that when they got home, he was going to have to live with the knowledge that he’d had this and never would again. For now, none of it mattered a single iota because James was dragging him back down the table, burying his face in Q’s neck and mouthing lazy kisses to the skin there and it was blissful. Was he detecting a bit of a neck fetish in there?! Wow.

Fumbling his grip on shoulders he was fairly sure he’d left his mark on, Q tugged at the body over him, dragging James’ head up enough to meet his eyes with a hazy, lust blown stare,  
“Let me…” he whispered hotly, trailing his hand into the tiny slither of air between them, unerringly seeking his revenge with a wicked little grin that faltered into confusion when he met his target and discovered merely softening flesh beneath damp denim.

“You already did…” And jesus christ, James Bond actually sounded slightly SHAMED, the mere concept enough to still Q beneath him as he blinked up at him, utterly lost by the unexpected turn of events.  
“What? I don’t…um…sorry, but I’m pretty sure you just drained my mind, so speak slowly and in the least syllables possible, please?”

The huff of James’ chuckle plumed against Q’s face, his hand reaching up to cup a pink cheek and smooth gun roughened thumb against kiss swollen lips,  
“The noises you make…” James murmured as if it explained it all, eyes unwavering on Q’s,  
“I told you, it’s been _a while_ since I first wanted to do that. My over active imagination didn’t do you justice, love.”

Well, fuck. If that wasn’t the most flattering thing he’d ever heard, Q didn’t want to know what was because the heat that bloomed through his chest from those words would keep him warm for years.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter today because there was a lot to fit in!

Science was wrong. That in itself was quite a revelation to experience, really, but then again, the day had been rather jam packed with those thus far, so he shouldn’t have been shocked. Besides, Q was really pretty ok with it being wrong on this one. Of course, that might be because he was currently a sated, hastily wiped clean, naked puddle draped over an equally damp cloth cleansed expanse of solid muscle in a vast, cloud like bed.

The lack of clothes thing, that was an EXCELLENT development too mind you. Amazingly excellent.

In fact, that whole concept had the ability to make a lot of things ok in Q’s mind. Not just ok, more of a passing distraction that just…well…it simply wasn’t as INTERESTING as carefully mapping the scars on a man who had amply demonstrated his ability to do what no one else had ever managed and SWITCH OFF the fervent over workings of a razor sharp mind.

He was digressing from the point though, and that would never do, because where science had gone wrong, (and honestly, it was quite a shocking one this) where they were wrong was in the passing of TIME. Pretty fundamental one to cock up, all things considered, but wrong they were because time, Q decided, tracing Eve’s vicious looking calling card on James‘ shoulder, was apparently controlled entirely by how much you gave a shit about it’s passing. There could be no other possible explanation for the fact that it appeared to be vanishing alarmingly fast in a haze of afterglow induced dozing beneath the gentle breeze of the ceiling fan lazily circling above them.

Hazy, glasses free eyes fought to read the numbers on the bedside clock and sighed into warm skin at the sight. There really was no ignoring it, they were going to have to move soon and deal with this whole…mission…thing. Urgh.

“No sulking…” James murmured, amusement obvious in his tone as the hand he’d had in Q’s hair since they’d collapsed into the bed raked through it in a soothing stroke with just the right nails to scalp ratio,  
“Since you’ve been a very good quartermaster and got your fieldwork scouts badge, you can boobytrap the system for the good of Queen and Country!”

That…well, the man knew how to bargain, Q had to give him that, even if James was apparently totally incapable of leaving certain topics behind. Smug git. God he was gorgeous.

“You realise this is a whole new low for you? Cracking jokes about my age while I‘m arse naked in your bed…well done, barrel scrapingly so, if I may say.” Dragging himself up from his amazingly comfortable pillow of a shoulder he raised a dark brow and smirked down at his quarry,  
“Maybe I should go on my own tonight, wouldn’t want you to put your back out after that strenuous activity over the table and all…”

It was just as well he’d already been half way to upright or he’d never have made it even as far as he did before the double 0 reflexes kicked in. Which, in the grand scheme of things was a pitiful few feet towards the edge of the bed before James effortlessly caught a flailing ankle and Q found his back mercilessly pinned to that solid chest again, breathlessly laughing all the air from his body while big hands roamed him, seeking the ticklish spots with unerring accuracy.

“OHGODSTOPPIT! Jesus, you bloody great heathen I’m on your side, remember?!”

The hands stilled, sliding over his bony frame until he was enveloped into a giant backwards cuddle, James burying his face in the unruly mop of Q’s hair,  
“You’ll be the death of me yet you little brat, now go and put some clothes on or I’ll be forced to kiss goodbye to my Aston’s and forget the sodding mission…”

Breathless was seriously starting to be his default setting when around James, Q noted with a barely suppressed shiver, albeit less from the tickling and more from the grind of fluidly silky hips against his backside, but the theory was the same. Sort’ve. Fuck it, science had been wrong once today, it could just suck it up on that one and like it.

***

A mere thirty short minutes later and Q found himself shoving his glasses further up the bridge of his nose to watch James ruthlessly cutting a hole in a chain link fence like it was some light gardening work on a summers evening. Given what the man did on a fairly daily basis, a bit of gentle breaking and entering probably WAS fuck all to him…

“After you, Quartermaster…” and there was one tanned hand holding back the curl of the fence for Q to crawl through, dragging his backpack of essential tech behind him.

Oddly, he’d always assumed field work would be rather more…well…high octane than this. From all he heard over the comms lines, it usually involved more gunfire and a general air of barely controlled chaos, this was really more…sedate afternoon bunking off school! Mind you, he could seriously live without getting shot at and this WAS supposed to be a nice easy little mission…bloody M and his smug face. Words were going to be had about that when he got back because Q was starting to get the very distinct impression he’d been played by the devious little desk dweller.

“Not what you expected, love?” James smirked, slinking under the fence like some lethal hybrid ferret to tug Q after him into the shadows the fading sunset cast over the tatty looking little building.

Q gave a little shrug, following in the wake of his tour guide for the evening as they went along the edge of the building, ducking under windows,  
“Rather not meet any of our little friends, thanks!”

Even as the words left him, a large hand clamped over his mouth and James hauled him back against the building just in time to see a pair of what must be perimeter guards strolling the well worn path in the grass they’d just crossed. Jesus. Ok, adrenaline was running now! Was this what all the double 0’s lived with? The constant pounding of a heart and low level panic? It was…BRILLIANT!

Wasn’t exactly AWFUL being pressed up against James again either, but, no, FOCUS, before the heavily armed militia you’re here to rob catch you rubbing up on your…well there was a question, what exactly were they to each other?! That one would have to wait for a time when the majority of his brain wasn’t already dying to get into that server.

Dragging in a ragged breath when the familiar hand left his face, Q cast a wide eyed glance up and merely nodded when James held one finger of the hand suddenly gripping the Walther to his lips, grabbing Q’s wrist and tugging him closer to the door. Oh well, no one had ever called Q a shy, retiring sort, perhaps the field work wasn’t ALL bad after all! Especially when he’d get to try out his new electronic lock picker in a mere few seconds!

That, well, it might just have made the whole trip worthwhile even without the whole…other…fringe benefits aspect…and now he was blushing in the darkness again and that was frankly ridiculous considering everything he’d done during the last 24 hours without even including the fact that he was currently breaking into a secure server bunker to steal internationally important data!

Then he came face to face with the least secure bit of timber masquerading as a door he’d ever seen and failed miserably to hold back a huff of despair,  
“You have GOT to be kidding me…” 

“Problem?” James appeared at his side, gun still in hand, eyes flicking from his swift survey of the surroundings to the door that stood between them and their mission for a second before he snorted a quiet, incredulous laugh and shoved the useless, non electronic lock pickable bloody thing from ajar to fully open with a the toe of his boot,  
“Oh we’re coming here again, I bloody love this country!” 

“Next time, I want a beach house and a bathtub…” Q muttered, following closely as they made their way inside and dragging out the custom tablet he’d built for the mission to see the blueprints of the building,  
“Second on the left, should be stairs…”

“Not a fan of showers, Q? Think I can change your mind on that one…” James chuckled when they reached the turning in question, only having had to duck once to avoid the apparently LAZY AS HELL security that aimlessly wandered the compound. Honestly, it would have been utterly insulting were it not for the fact that this ease was precisely why M had seen fit to send them both out there. Q wasn’t daft enough to assume for one moment he’d have been shuffled onto the plane for anything even vaguely risky, after all…but still…it was all a bit…EASY, wasn’t it?!

He’d just opened his mouth to voice that very thought when he looked up in time to come face to face with a very startled looking thug brandishing a Glock, a curious, blooming red hole in his forehead…  
“Wow…that silencer is really very good isn’t it, I didn‘t even hear that…” He said instead, blinking at the sight.

“Should be, you designed it. Time to go.” James snapped, voice suddenly free of any of the lazy amusement he’d oozed for the last few days and firmly back into the usual, clipped tones Q was used to hearing over a comm line. It seemed oddly out of place, hearing it out loud like that rather than in his ear from the safety of his office and for a moment it threw Q out of the loop of his thoughts, leaving him staring in stunned silence at the body that had collapsed in front of him. Just as well James was firmly in 007 mode now, really, Q had time to dazedly muse as a hand curved around his bicep to drag him away from the swiftly cooling corpse and shove him in the direction of the stairs, James looming behind him as a thoroughly lethal human shield lest anyone else see them.

Casting a swift glance down at the plans on his tablet, Q nodded and dragged a breath in, mind clunking back online from it’s temporary holiday to memorise them,  
“The server room’s at the bottom of the stairs, there’s another door we can leave by on the back but it leads right into the middle of the compound.”

“Cross that one when we get there. Move.”

It was bloody typical, Q decided as he dashed down the stairs, James hot on his heels, that this stupid sodding job would have to go tits up BEFORE he’d had a chance to even look at what else was lying about in the worlds least secure, secure server bunker! Bit of luck, he might get to have a quick glimpse while he was downloading the data, but he’d have to wait until much later to see if there was anything worth having and just hope for the best on what he could get now. Bugger it. 

This was just like that time last month when he’d been on the VERGE of cracking a particularly stubborn little puzzle box James had brought him back from god knows where when 006 had got into a spot of bother with the Chinese mob and needed three days of help. Why was it that hired goons were so OFTEN responsible for getting in the way of his happy places now, dammit?!

The door appeared in front of him and he reached for the lock picker in his pocket, only to be nudged aside with the soft thud of a silenced bullet taking care of the entire bolt system in a painful crunch of electronics.

“No time.” James said without a single note of regret in his smug bloody tone and Q sulkily shoved him out of the way to duck into the server room. Bloody double 0’s, shoot first, apologise for killing a beautifully engineered bit of kit later, that was just sodding TYPICAL of them!

“If you could resist putting holes in anything else in here until I say so…” he grumpily muttered, delving about behind one of the whirring towers until one hand came up clutching the bunch of cables he’d wrenched from the back of the machines to plug into his tablet,  
“It would speed this up immensely!”

The grin James sent him from his lookout position at the door was blue eyed amusement incarnate and Q deliberately turned to the side as he set about hooking up the equipment with experienced hands. This was a thing he could do, hacking was mere childs play in his arsenal of mental abilities, this, this was EASY! A thing he did as well as James did…well…basically anything because the annoying bastard appeared to be pretty adept at damn near anything he turned his talented bloody hands to…and they were VERY talented…

NOT a helpful thought, that, not when he was digging into the frankly INSULTINGLY low level of security set up on the servers around him. Apparently the codes they‘d obtained via the camera gave him instant access to, well, literally EVERYTHING, really, without much more than a half arsed stroll through some code by Q. Although why he’d expected any different he had no idea, the stupid open door should have been clue enough! Honest to god, the idiot who owned this lot didn’t deserve to even own a CALCULATOR let alone the set up he was currently standing in!

Mind once again back on the job and filled with righteous indignation over the beautiful group of machinery around him being used in such a VERY half arsed manner and Q was paddling like crazy against the stream of data to find the things they needed, lost in the constant swirl of it and fingers flying over the tablet screen. 

“This IDIOT lets his KIDS use this server!” Q muttered in disbelief as he stumbled upon a whole series of folders containing the school work of three apparently distinctly sub par students,  
“Little Ricardo’s algebra is atrocious, by the by…”

Dimly aware of James’ snort of laughter from the door, he continued his digital rummaging, throwing basically anything that looked useful at his tablet and its in built upload to home for later perusal whilst scanning increasingly bored eyes over the data. Where was the imagination these days eh?! Good grief, who actually labelled their accounting systems ‘False’ and ‘Real’?! Admittedly it was in Spanish, but COME ON!

“Well that should make it nice and easy to nail him for it at least!”

Starting slightly at the words, Q glanced up to find James grinning at him, one startlingly blue eye throwing a wink at him before it was trained back on the slightly ajar door once again,  
“Your inner monologue’s escaping again, love!”

“Well HONESTLY…” Q began, utterly unapologetic in his huff and letting his mind sink back into the task at hand once more and pinging his way through another few terabytes of mindless internet surfing history. Apparently someone was rather fond of the shopping channels less savoury output online…  
“I slightly resent being dragged half way round the bloody world to strip down something this moron picked up at PC World! At least give me a CHALLENGE!”

It was mere Murphy’s law that even before the echo of his voice had died in the room, the sounds of shouting and thundering feet filtered down from the corridor above them and James’ interrupted Q’s slight moment of panic,  
“Think they just found our friend upstairs, time to speed it up, Q!”

Head ducking back to his work, fingers flying over the specially designed touch screen built to keep up with his ridiculous typing speed where others could not and Q managed a quick mutter of  
“Nearly there…”

“So are they, need a distraction…” James said quickly, suddenly every inch the trained killer as he lifted the Walther and tensed beside the door, momentarily lifting Q’s eyes enough to take in the room and focus on what they had to work with instead of the continuing stream of data he was copying.

Clearly getting out without being noticed was out, fuck it, might as well go all out and take the place down with them…

“White box over the door above you, shoot it.”

His command was carried out without a blink and Q wondered abstractly if later, he might feel a moment of wonder at the power he had over this man, but for now, his considerable brain was needed elsewhere so they might actually stand a snowballs chance in hell of getting out of there alive.

“If that was meant to do anything, it didn’t…” James hissed against his ear as Q was forcibly dragged behind one of the server bays and out of the line of sight of the door, tablet and ream of cables still clutched in his hands.

Bloody double 0’s! If it didn’t cause an immediate explosion loud enough to send a shockwave back to home, it just didn’t count as action as far as they were concerned! Subtlety was just LOST on the lot of them!

“Ye of little FAITH!” Q managed, eyes rolling as he went back to attacking his tablet with renewed verve and listening to the dulcet tones of a sprinkler system bringing rain and chaos to the rest of the compound whilst leaving the server room mercifully dry,  
“This is a climate controlled room…“ he began, flicking through the remaining few files with the nimble fingers, all while scanning the open window he had on the building that contained them,  
“You just shot the cooling system…”

From all around them, the sounds of gently whirring fans within the servers began to still at Q‘s command just as the air con above them stumbled to a halt, and Q allowed the tiny grin to tug at the corner of his mouth as he hit the final section of copying. The temperature in the room began creeping up almost immediately and for a moment he felt a slight pang of loss for the poor, helpless servers he was about to cook alive, but really, it was for the best. They WERE owned by a complete blithering idiot and their data was TECHNICALLY of a national security sort‘ve nature what with the arms dealing and everything, so all things considered, it was really a warriors death for them. Poor babies. Maybe he could hold a memorial service for them when he got back…for those lost for the good of the country…

“Much as I hate to RUSH you here…” James muttered from somewhere off to the side and Q released a sigh,  
“Patience is a virtue you know!”

“So’s not getting shot at!” Was all the reply he got before he was hauled bodily forwards and shoved behind the tower in front, James kicking into what Q had referred to mentally for the last year as ‘full professional mode’ in time to take down the two guards that burst through the doorway. One day, he really should make a study of the various moods of a double 0 agent…more specifically THIS double 0 agent, since Q was…and it was still so new a concept, it shocked him to even consider, apparently privy to a great deal MORE of James’ many sides now he was more than simply a voice on a comm line or that irritating bastard who brought Q back souvenirs that didn’t officially exist.

He WAS still rather fond of that puzzle box though…

“Ten seconds then I‘m pulling the plug.” James said, sharp enough to raise Q’s head from his last, final burst of mental energy on the files necessary and drag a quick nod from him before he was back on the screens whipping past so quickly he could barely read them…just enough to skim the contents as they span past and OH WOW…  
“He has a full list of his operatives, names, photo’s, everything!”

“You got it?”

“Naturally!” Head snapping up, Q flashed a wide grin and yanked the cables free of his precious tablet, shoving it into his backpack and kicking the untidy stack of printouts beside him against the back of the nearest tower as he was dragged out the door by large hand on his arm again. Hopefully that, and the distinct scent of cleaning chemicals coming from the cupboard in the corner should speed the electrical Valhalla ready death at least!

Well, that and the fact that as he was hauled out into the hall, he’d managed to kick the door shut!

“You sure that room’s going to be secure?” James murmured, blithely stepping over the two corpses he’d left as they slunk along the soaking corridors, the sprinkler systems apparently having wound down to a mere dribble.

“You know it‘s just downright RUDE when you doubt me, don‘t you?” Q huffed, disdain thick in his voice. Honestly, why did everyone ALWAYS have to underestimate him?! It had been something he’d expected at uni’, the inevitable reaction to a face too young to be capable of all he was doing, but really, from James it was almost insulting!

As if on cue, the soft whump of something highly flammable igniting could be heard behind them and he raised his brows in a silent but AMAZINGLY satisfying ‘I told you so’ before adding,  
“I set them all to work overtime and killed all the on board fans. We might want to not be here for when the fire hits the cleaning cupboard though…”

For a second or two, James paused to grin down at him with a slightly disbelieving head shake,  
“And they call ME a danger to others…”

Sadly any reply Q might have given was rather interrupted by the appearance of a couple of guards firing a few warning shots off before James had shoved Q to the floor and taken one of them out with a well timed shot around the corner of the corridor.

“Give me a gun!” Q hissed, settling his bag over both shoulders so his hands could be free.

“Know what you’re doing with one?” James asked mildly, sending another couple of shots before ducking back round in time to avoid the returning hail of fire, clearly entirely in his element in the middle of a sticky situation. It shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was…probably better not to get caught up in that one just yet! Mind on the job again at least until people stopped trying to kill them.

“AGAIN with the doubt? Really?” Q huffed, mostly to himself since James was occupied sending a few well placed bullets into some morons with…oh good lord, machine guns? Could these people get any MORE clichéd?! Bollocks to it all, quite frankly, fieldwork was EVERY bit as shitty as he’d always imagined thus far. Alright, there was the heady exception of…well, JAMES, but everything else was just testing his patience now!

Rolling his eyes, he reached down to the ankle holster he just KNEW James was wearing under those ridiculously well fitting jeans and snatched the Beretta from it’s happy home there. He wasn’t about to just sit there and get shot at just because bloody M and his bloody scheming had decided he should, dammit and they were COMPLETELY going to discuss that when he got back too! Enough was enough!

Feeling the weight of James’ amused stare on him as he popped the magazine to check the contents with a well practised action, Q raised a brow and reloaded, shoving his glasses back up his nose with a huffy reply,  
“What? Did you think all those guns I made you tested themselves? Keep up James!”

“Shall I just sit this one out and let you vent your mood on this lot then?”

“Oh sod off and take the one by the door while I try and find us a way out of this shithole!”

The mocking salute James threw him earnt the bloody great idiot a roll of the eyes as Q silently ducked around the corner they were on and into the next corridor, quickly checking it was clear before the dull thud of a silencer being fired through made him turn back. Oh it was just typical, it really was, James was apparently entirely incapable of missing his target even mid banter, the completely unprepared thug that had been attempting to reload his own weapon hitting the deck in a bloody smear.

“Suggest we get out of here before your little present in the basement becomes an issue!” The capable great git muttered with a smirk, catching Q’s arm and hauling him along the empty stretch of hallway,  
“Which way, love?”

“Left, back door should be…” Q paused, the opening in question appearing before them right on cue and making him grin,  
“Right there! Isn’t it nice when floor plans are accurate!”

Gun raised as he followed at James’ back, Q paused merely when he felt the tiniest of explosions beneath his feet. Clearly that fire was shifting a bit quicker than he’d intended, but it was fine, they had at least another three minutes to get out. Probably. Give or take.

A slightly larger shaking of the building around them and he was forced to revise that estimate with a hurried shove to James and a nod to the door,  
“I may have miscalculated that fire slightly. We need to not be here now…”  
James didn’t even bother replying beyond a grunt and for once, Q was singularly grateful to be ignored since the man was shooting the lock off the door and booting it open with the sort of move Q had actually only thought people used in the films he guiltily watched, late at night wrapped in a duvet when sleep refused to come. Oddly, or actually, probably not, considering who was doing it, it was a lot sexier in person. That might have just been James again though. Jesus, he was turning into SUCH a whimpering teen…

Thought vanished as he was hauled out through the door in a short blaze of gunfire before James had felled the one idiot they’d shocked into reaching for his weapon, leaving them racing for the fence and using the buildings for cover. There were distinct hints of burning electricals in the air, Q noted, running off a few rounds to take down some tool aiming for James with a bloody MACHETE, would you believe, because the whole Kalashnikov bearing drug dealers thing, clearly not stereotype ENOUGH here! Honestly, what was the world coming to when even the bad guys with the money couldn’t come up with anything new?!

Grinning breathlessly at the nod of thanks James threw him, Q had been about to throw out a cheap little comment about age and being past it that would have been completely beneath him…but then the building they’d left sort’ve…well, COLLAPSED was possibly too tame a word for the ground shaking implosion of cheaply built drug den that occurred before their very eyes, but Q was pretty positive rebuilding that hot mess was going to be less than thrilling for the owner!

“JESUS!” James exclaimed on a laugh, pausing their swift exit long enough to stand by the whole in the fence they’d come in through to watch the flames rising from the rubble and the abject CHAOS unfolding amongst inept and woefully confused hired thugs.  
“Remind me never to piss you off, love!”

Unable to prevent the beaming grin that spread over his face, Q allowed himself a moment to revel in possibly the smuggest moment of his life thus far, because this…this was right up there with that time his IDIOT brothers had told him he couldn’t hack NASA. No, scratch that, it was SO much better not least of which because this time around, he had government given permission to act up and no one was going to ban him from using a computer for a week as punishment! Alright, so he’d only been twelve at the time, but those seven, connectionless days had been HIDEOUS and he had no intention of ever trying that again thank you very much! 

Giving a casual little shrug, he hid the smirk his grin morphed into and ducked under the fence with a wriggle to get his backpack under with him,  
“You _said_ I could booby trap it…”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there is an adrenaline high and Q decides lying to himself is just getting silly...also smut, did I mention smut?
> 
> Also, for reference to the non-Brits out there, Thorpe Park is an amusement park populated by gleeful children and teenagers who hunt thrills in large, giggling packs.

The drive back to the hotel was both adrenaline fuelled and immensely speed limit law breaking, both of which left Q feeling like he’d basically flown the distance on a giggling, legal high. If this was the pay off for all the endless, boring slog side of field work, he was starting to see why all the double 0’s came back from missions looking like beaten up kids after a day out at Thorpe Park! 

“I suppose I’d better clear the number plates from the local police after that.” He grinned when at last, James dragged the car to a halt in the sort of parking that was really more handbrake based than advisable in a crowded hotel car park.

“No need…” And those painfully blue eyes winked at him as James slid from the car, Q following in his wake,  
“I switched them when I picked it up.”

It took Q a moment or two to realise that James was waiting for him to catch up, the short few steps it took Q to reach his side met with an easy smile and casual arm about his waist as if they went everywhere like this, together. As if they weren’t two lethal causes of mass destruction in a foreign land on the whim of a man who schemed because he was a grumpy old bastard who was getting a solid telling off when they got back…it was just…GIDDYING!

“You mean I don’t have ANYTHING to do? Surely just means we haven’t done enough damage, no?” He giggled as they headed into the hotel, enjoying the cheap thrill of being held that closely too much to even attempt putting a logical face on things. Fuck it, reality would bite him on the arse hard enough in the morning when they went home again…on a PLANE. For now, he was free, the work was done and already winging it’s way back home via his tablet and secure connection and James…James was looking at him like…best not to think on that one too much…

“Oh I’m sure I can think of a few things for you to do…”

So much for not thinking about that then. Wow. The painfully attractive bastard was nuzzling Q’s ear and crowding him into that accursed mirrored lift until his back hit the wall in an almost perfect replica of the first time they’d travelled within it. The thought struck Q right between the thighs when his head fell back with a soft thump, James ducking to mouth his way along pale throat and this time, there was no acting involved when Q’s arms draped around broad shoulders and he sighed the name into the lapping, filthy kiss. It wasn’t the only thing between his thighs either because James, clever bastard that he was, had managed to slink his way between them and was just about to hitch Q’s entire weight up when the doors dinged open and they were forced to pause.

For a heartbeat, they stayed as they were, breathing the same hot, damp air between barely parted lips and then James broke into a grin and tugged, dragging Q from the wall and into stumbling steps on unsteady legs,  
“Not in the LIFT, Q, we _shouldn’t_ …”

Ohh…oh that evil GIT! He’d pay for that one later…not now, obviously, because the big hand that slipped around Q’s waist and tugged his suddenly jelly filled limbs down the hall to their door just felt…oh fuck it. Q was nothing if not a realist, he was so besotted at this point, he knew full well that getting over this little holiday romance was probably going to require more tea and ice cream than he was sensibly allowed to purchase in one go, but he was going to do it anyway because…god, things like this didn’t happen to people in real life.

There was a hand on his hip again, pinning him against solid muscle and when at last they fell into the room, staggering across the floor while they scattered each other’s clothing between hungry, almost desperate kisses, Q gave up thinking and let himself be nudged backwards, bouncing onto the bed under all of James’ glorious weight. When faced with that delicious grin, the one the secretive side of him hoarded for the quiet moments back at home when it was late at night and just him and James on the comm line, idly chattering away the hours till dawn, the decision to just give in was just so CLEAR within his mind it almost hurt to examine closely.

“You’re getting lost in your brain again…” James purred against Q‘s mouth, infinitely clever hands curving around pale thighs to press them apart and slink into the gap made between them with sinful ease,  
“If it’s work related, speak now because in about thirty seconds, I’m going to make you scream for me, so make up your mind fast eh, love?”

Breathless and panting under him, Q focussed on those blue, blue eyes and gave the bane of his professional life a grin, spidery hands sliding down scar rippled back and grabbing a healthy grip on a backside apparently crafted from pure muscle. Which was ridiculous when you considered that it’s owner ate like a bloody horse and drank bars dry, but god…the man was just…  
“Thirty seconds?” He breathed giddily, nuzzling at the broken nose before him,  
“Tsk tsk, slacking, James, need to up your game…”

The low, rumbling growl that vibrated through Q’s throat as James ducked to attack it with a verve that he had NO doubt would show tomorrow was enough to cause a shudder to run through them both,   
“Want me to stop, say so now.”

“Stop and I will send you out next time with a fucking water pistol…” Q gasped, back arching as those bloody wonderful, rough hands somehow managed to grip at his narrow hips in time for sweat slicked cocks to slide together perfectly in the sort of knee weakening friction that should really be illegal. Hell, JAMES should be illegal, not just for this whole…oh god thinking was getting so DIFFICULT…

“A pink one…” he managed, just to hear the huff of laughter released against his much abused throat. The man was obsessed with it, tomorrow Q was pretty sure he’d be going home looking like he’d been attacked by some of the world’s laziest lampreys. Eve would have a field day with him over it and god, he could not find a single reason to give a shit because James had managed to detach one of the hands currently leaving their own marks up his back and wrap it around them both with his own, that gun callused thumb smoothing over the velvety head of his cock in the most gentle of caresses…  
“OHGOD…do that again… _please_ …”

It was singularly typical of the obstinate bastard that he chose the moment to actually do what he was told. In fact, that made it TWICE today and surely the apocalypse was nigh now as a result, or maybe that was just James making ruthless use of his newly found weakspot as Q failed spectacularly to hold back the throaty moan the action dragged from him. It was hard to tell really.

Fuck it, he wasn’t about to let that go without a fight, albeit a slightly pathetic, whimper based one as he used his spare hand to pull James down into a wet mess of a kiss and they writhed against each other. He wasn’t going to last and from the groan that vibrated through his body from James as they moved together in greedy thrusts, he wasn‘t alone in that either, thank fuck! At some point when higher brain functions were available to him again, that breathless, desperate noise at his ear…well, it was going to need some mental replaying because as system overload went, that was just a mindfuck and a half of ridiculously unbelievable sexiness!

The adrenaline high and giddy improbability of the whole situation was robbing Q of anything resembling control with increasing speed, leaving him shuddering helplessly on the brink of a frankly spectacular orgasm that he suspected he wouldn’t survive intact. Then James, the delicious, underhand, knowing bastard, sank his teeth into the meat of Q’s shoulder on a hoarse cry and he actually FELT the moment his constantly spinning brain stuttered to a halt in the mental version of a game over screen.

The hot, wet splashes across his belly went barely registered as Q rode out the blinding tumble over the edge of a precipice, only vaguely aware of the shout of a name escaping his lips. God, had he really screamed for James? Just as that gorgeous bloody man had promised after all, then, the thought bringing a love drunk grin to kiss bitten lips. No, no no, it was lust, just simple lust…right?

Oh hell with it, why bother to lie when sprawled under the man in question, shivering your way through aftershocks of small town felling magnitude?! Because it was depressingly SO not just lust and Q, well, that not giving a shit thing was still ongoing when James was lazily applying something that may have been his shirt to the sticky mess between them, wiping them off with tender care before collapsing beside Q and dragging his jellied body against warm chest.

“Go to sleep, love…”

“Kay…you too…”

That…yeah, that was a really lovely idea, Q dopily decided, nuzzling his way under the jaw that moved when James had spoken, head comfortably cushioned against a shoulder and body draped like a human blanket over the sprawled muscle beneath him. Sleep was such a NICE thing…


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Q is unimpressed with the ways double 0's use his carefully crafted gadgets and there is an appearance of possessive!James.

There was a familiar weight on his belly and on the sort of autopilot that would probably horrify him when he wasn’t gloriously warm and comfortably settled, Q sank his fingers blindly into the short crop of blonde hair on the head that was using him as a pillow, earning a low purr in response. 

Mornings were funny things, before this whole…insanity of the highest order? Before THIS, anyway, mornings had been hideous, evil bastard things. Now though, well, they were starting to be really quite NICE! They tended to mean he’d spent a ridiculous quantity of time in a massive, soft bed, wrapped in James and the gentle breeze of an aircon and wow…had he really only been doing that for a few days? It felt like the sort of forever he could get very, very used to…

Before that folly of a thought could be processed any further however, the slack puddle over Q’s lower half was suddenly a tense, attentive and wide awake trained killer. One who, Q noted vaguely through a sleep hazed mind, was shoving a hand beneath the pillow to produce the Walther and aiming it steadily at the door as he caged Q’s barely conscious body with his own at the mere breath of a threat. All of which was just…god it was impressive when seen so up close and personal…

Slightly embarrassingly, getting lost in the sight dragged out the time it took Q to fumble for his glasses on the bedside table considerably, one hand slinking out from the protective mass hunched over him to pat at the table top until fingers discovered thick frames and um, he didn’t actually remember taking those off last night? Bloody James. Then again though, he was arse naked in bed with a man who appeared to be hitting danger mode rather quicker than was average for a morning, so perhaps other things were more pressing after all?

The time to focus at least a bit was clearly nigh because, as ever, James’ instincts had been bang on, the gentle clunk of the door handle dipping dragging Q’s now much sharper eyes to it in time to hear a naggingly familiar, male voice lazily drawl from the other side,  
“Oh put it away, James! We’ve all seen it before.”

Before Q had even really had time to fathom quite what the bloody hell was occurring, (because it was arse o clock in the morning dammit, and really, the last thing he recalled with any clarity was coming so hard he might actually have blacked out there for a bit…oh, and there was no TEA!) James slithered out of his 007 shell and back into the massive teddy bear he’d previously been in the blink of an eye. 

Well, several blinks of Q’s eyes, because one minute he’d been squinting sleepily at the door under a cage of seriously solid, lethal death bringer and the next, well, he was back to being the worlds comfiest pillow again. The apparently no longer needed Walther was abandoned on the mattress beside Q’s hip to allow James both hands free, all the better for repositioning Q’s far slighter form to his satisfaction before settling back down with a grumbling growl,  
“Fuck OFF you interrupting arsehole and lock the door again behind you.”

“Um…wha…?” Q managed, struggling to make ANY sense of the entire, utterly bamboozling situation whilst attempting to prop himself up on his elbows to see just what the bloody hell was occurring.

The door swung wide for a moment, and alright, yes, Q was aware he was gaping at the not unimpressive sight of 006 standing there, a brow raised and smirk that clearly was a requirement of double 0 status tugging his lips up as he took in the scene before kicking the door shut again behind him and sauntering his way over to the bed.  
“Well good morning to you too, sunshine! Really, Bond, cradle robbing? Tsk tsk.”

What WAS it with those bloody agents?! They spent their days swanning about the world like they owned it, barging into other people’s hotel rooms and slinging insults about willy nilly…

“Good morning Q, nice to see you’re human under the cardigans. You know we all had a few bets that you were actually a military designed cyborg?”

Probably wrong that the first thing that sprang to Q’s mind was the memory of a hastily hidden white board the minions had claimed was untested weapons designs and that he now had a sneaking suspicion had been robotic schematics. Little FUCKERS! See if he let them steal his chocolate biscuits NOW!

The rake of Alec’s leering gaze that wandered Q’s exposed body resulted in the sort of growl from James that Q had previously only heard over the comm lines directed at threats to national security, which…flattering…but oh god he was arse naked wasn’t he and that sheet wasn’t covering all that much because James was dragging it up and glaring at Alec with the sort of death filled expression that threatened a great deal of violence. 

“Not to sound _rude_ , 006...” Q managed in a tone that he hoped conveyed precisely how much he did want to sound just that as one hand stroked a soothing motion over James’ shoulder. Better just to make sure they weren’t about to start an international incident before he’d had any tea, after all, because, really, some things were just beyond the pale.  
“But one, I’m not actually twelve OR artificial intelligence, despite all you and your fellow double 0’s protestations. Two, I seem to have missed the reason for your BEING HERE?”

He paused for a second, momentarily distracted by the glint of light of something SHINY in 006’s hand because that looked awfully familiar a casing didn’t it. So familiar, in fact, that there was one exactly the same in the backpack Q had abandoned somewhere by the sofa last night, unused and DISTINCTLY under tested following yesterdays little outing…

“And sorry, _three_ , is that my electronic lock picking design?!”

And wasn’t that just NOT the variety of conversation he ever thought he’d be having whilst flat on his back under James Bond…jesus, what had his life come to…it was bloody brilliant!

The snort of laughter James released was muffled into Q’s belly in a huff of warm, damp air against skin and sent a ripple of delighted goosebumps travelling over pale skin. Probably just as well James was currently sprawled between his thighs or he might well have been giving bloody Alec the sort of show best kept to just the one double 0 agent, thank you. Bad enough that the wicked gleam in blue eyes that flickered up to him showed that the devious bastard was entirely well aware of what he could feel pressing against his chest.

“WELL…” Alec began, smirkingly dragging over a chair from the breakfast table and sprawling into it like a throne beside the bed,  
“You two certainly know how to make a man welcome, I’ll give you that!”

Disgustingly cliché though it was, Q could feel his brow sliding up in tandem with James’, the pair of them giving their uninvited guest the variety of sardonic look that usually resulted in the Q branch minions scattering like rats before them. Oh god, they were practically finishing each others sentences…

Apparently unperturbed, Alec swung dirty booted feet up to the edge of the bed and settled himself more comfortably, his grin merely increasing when James eyed the footwear as if it’s very lack of custom made quality would be infectious to his wardrobe by proximity alone.

“Yes, dear Q, yes, it is your lock picker! Quite durable, by the way, I clubbed someone with it yesterday and as you can see by my mere presence here, it held up beautifully!” 

“You CLUBBED someone…with my lockpicker…of COURSE you did.” Oh, just, RIGHT, that was it, when they all got back to reality, Q was going to start having the costs of their broken tech taken from the double 0’s wages and that was that dammit!

“You’re pissing off my pillow, Alec, tread carefully and get to the point.” The darkly unamused rumble from James interrupted any further tellings off from Q and he settled instead for casting 006 a death glare that was met with a huff of laughter. Christ, they were all as bad as each other, the double 0’s, completely unrepentant even when being obnoxious little shits!

“Ohh calm down the pair of you, don’t shoot the bloody messenger!” Alec sighed, waving a casual hand as if he could dismiss the PERFECTLY VALID CONCERNS for a beautiful bit of kit Q had lovingly crafted and supplied the ungrateful bugger with. One thing was for sure, he absolutely was not getting anymore of the newly designed toys after this!

“I’m here on M’s orders, apparently SOMEONE blew up the SOFT TARGET they were sent in to steal from and M has some minor fears for our major assets safety. I’m to check you’re both alive…” A pale brow slithered up as Alec smirkingly plucked the edge of the sheet up to peer beneath and promptly got his wrist twisted painfully back by James,  
“OW…and bring you both home. Jesus, leggo you vicious bastard!”

Home. The word alone was enough to make Q go tense and hit a level of awake he hadn’t actually thought possible before tea! Well, bugger. Oh god, it seemed so far away in this place where it was possible for Q to sleep through the night in an actual BED…with JAMES, as opposed to collapsing on the sofa in his office when exhaustion clung to him like tangled sticky tape on a jumper.

It wasn’t even like he hadn’t known it was all going to end either, inevitably it was, but…wow…he hadn’t actually realised how unprepared he was for the prospect until it was set before him in stark, unyielding terms. It…well, it sort of HURT to think about and throughout all of the mile a minute thoughts that zipped through his mind, the one, desperation tinged one that screamed loud enough to drown out the others. NOT YET, PLEASE NOT YET.

Through the low lying panic that was making everything go a bit hazy around him, Q felt a large hand smooth up his side and looked down at it’s owner’s unwavering gaze, watching as James didn’t even blink, directing his words at Alec without once letting Q’s eyes go.

“No. We’re not due back for another few days so fuck off and tell M we’ll be home when we originally planned to be.”

Were it not for the presence of Alec’s lazy bloody form beside them, Q would have kissed James for that, the perceptive, wonderful, glorious idiot! Hell, given half a chance and Alec’s back turned, he might still do it anyway because Q had a feeling that the intensely grateful look he threw his human blanket just wasn’t doing enough justice to the strength of his feelings right now. Not even close, frankly, even if the barely perceptible half smile he got in return did giddy things to his insides. Christ, still not over that pathetic teenage girl stage to this whole thing then.

Shame. What was that again? Oh yesss, the thing he’d left so far behind at this point it was a speck in the distance. Oh help.

“Yes, he said you’d say that.” Alec continued, watching them with narrowed, knowing eyes that irrationally made Q more nervous than even the prospect of getting on another plane. Sodding agents…

“Told me to tell you that since you failed to check in last night after torching the joint…and apparently Intel are in love with the data you got, by the way, Q…you were forfeiting the remaining days for, and I quote ‘being a pain in everyone’s arses’.”

“Still no. Still fuck off.” James continued, happily burying his face in the pale skin on Q’s belly and Alec, bastard bloody Alec, just SIGHED over dramatically and produced a flick knife from his jacket pocket, lazily using it to drag god alone knew what out from under his nails,  
“Yessss, I told him you’d say that too and he told me to show you this…” A pause as a hand delved into pocket once more, dragging out a phone before a few taps were applied to it and it was tossed to the bed beside the Walther, the glowing screen showing a mass of words too small to make out and a grainy, CCTV capture of…oh bugger…

“Our little Spanish friend didn’t take kindly to having his compound blown up, he’s put your faces on his shit list.”

“Ahh.” James conceded, finally dragging himself up from his comfortable spot against Q, eyes on the phone even though Q could practically HEAR the cogs ticking away in his mind. That didn’t bode well. Alright, so he wasn’t in full on double 0 mode, but the look on his face was a familiar one to Q and anyone else who’d ever watched the man work. Things, as Eve had often put it, were about to get 007’d.

Evidently a plan had been formed in that debauched mind, but Q knew better than to interrupt the giant great idiot when he was fleshing out his initial stab at a situation. Had to give James that, his brain didn’t really operate within the same parameters as everyone else’s, less thinking outside the box and more ‘creative ways I can blow the box up and use the resulting explosion to my advantage’, which…well, it was crude, but effective and Q was inclined to defer to greater experience in the field on that one. 

“What did you bring?” James asked, alert blue eyes snapping to Alec and suddenly a great deal more awake.

“Cessna 172, nicked it from the last job when M asked me to drop in on you two on the way home.”

“We’ll need to switch in…”

“Miami, flight time’s an hour ish, less if I put my foot down.”

“Passports?”

“Undoubtedly flagged by your Spanish mate so forget commercial. Lear or cargo?”

“Fucking cargo planes always reek of panicked animals…”

“Oh because obviously the Lear won’t when we put _him_ on it…”

“Watch your mouth, Trevelyan.”

“Beg pardon there, sir! Wasn‘t aware you‘d become quite so DOMESTICATED in my absence!”

“Oh up yours. We might have to tranq him when we switch planes though…”

“So Eve said, I picked some up on my way.”

The entire conversation whipped by so fast it took a moment for Q to catch up to the concept that he was being discussed like bloody CARGO whilst still sprawled arse naked under one of the speakers and the fact that it had taken him that long to catch up to them was ENTIRELY down to the whole…LACK OF TEA thing, which would definitely need to be rectified and SOON, dammit!

“I am HERE you know!” He managed, one hand reaching down to smack James up the back of the head until Q was granted his attention and raised a huffy brow,  
“In the room, UNDER YOU. Tell me what the bloody hell you’re both plotting so I can HELP, would you?”

He absolutely was not going to address the fact that apparently his only option at this point was a severely bumpy collection of plane journeys in stolen private jets piloted by a pair of clinically unstable, armed to the teeth sociopaths…because apparently that part was FINE with his internal machinations?! Christ, working for The Company was clearly ruining his sanity one portion of grey matter at a time! 

“Feisty when he’s out of a cardigan, isn’t he…” Alec smirked and that, well, frankly that was just the very limit for Q’s tired, unbreakfasted mind!

Shoving James aside enough to rise in a flurry of sheet covered flailing that, well, ok, it could have been more graceful, but fuck it, he was ANNOYED alright and once AGAIN, NO TEA, Q rose up to his full, if diminutive, seated height in a puddle of bedlinen and the arm that James had kept around his waist like a well attached limpet,  
“YOU…” he hissed, one long, bony finger pointed squarely at Alec‘s pleasingly startled looking face, already silently hoping there was a camera somewhere capturing this, because this…this he had a feeling he was going to want to watch back again later. How often was it you got to put the wind up a double 0 agent whilst arse naked and unarmed?! James completely didn’t count as a weapon either, for the record.  
“I am not helping even a little bit because you used my lock picker as a BLUNT INSTRUMENT and because you’re an ARSEHOLE with no appreciation for good tech!“ He paused to draw breath, eyes flicking between the two men watching him, one a great deal more wary than the other,   
“Are we in immediate, flee now or become a stain on the rather nice hardwood flooring danger?”

Alec shook his head carefully, eyes sliding between Q‘s imperiously raised brow and the sprawled languor of James at his back,  
“If they knew where you were, you’d already be dead.”

“GOOD.” Q continued, crossing his arms and lifting his chin in lack of tea based defiance to the entire sodding situation,  
“In that case, get your bloody feet OFF my bed and SOD OFF until I’ve at least had a shower and some breakfast.”

Hands held up in grinning surrender as his filthy boots were at least removed from once pristine white bed, Alec threw James a look of silent entreaty for assistance in wrangling this new and unseen side of his quartermaster. EXCELLENT! Did the smug bastards some good to get their arses handed to them sometimes, perhaps he should do it more at home too? Tear a verbal strip off whoever came back with chunks of what had been a weapon instead of the whole thing…the thought wasn’t entirely without merit and it might even mean some of the poor technology made it home intact!

James, Q was more than pleased to note, met the scene with a grin against Q’s bare shoulder, curling around him and murmuring the lazy reply against his skin,  
“Don’t look at ME! I warned you not to piss off my pillow, you brought this one on yourself, mate!”

“Jesus christ, if you two ever decide to go rogue, take me with you because I definitely don’t want to be between you and M again after THIS!” Alec huffed on a low laugh, rolling to his feet and strolling back to the door,  
“I’ll be in the BAR then, shall I? Try not to wear him out, Q, hell if I’m doing all the flying on the journey home!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, anyone still with me on reading this, it's looking likely that it'll be between 20-22 chapters complete, so this is around halfway now :-)
> 
> CELEBRATE WITH ME, good readers, for I have written this 45k monstrosity in five weeks and it marks my return to serious writing after an extended break, so YAY! Apparently I can still string a sentence together when roused.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there are emotions and quite a lot of smut...

Breakfast had been a swift, quiet affair based on the pair of them shoving as much food into themselves as humanly possible in the shortest span of time with little to no conversation beyond the odd ‘Could you pass the sugar…’ (Q) or ‘Are you finishing that?’ (James). Well, food and in Q’s case TEA because given how appallingly it had started, he just KNEW it was going to be a four cup morning. Ordinarily, that would have meant leaving the pot to come back to later and been fine, but since he wasn’t likely to see anything resembling a decent cup again until they got home, well, better to get them all in early. James had apparently had a similar idea except rather more bacon based, polishing off three rolls stuffed with it, the remains of Q’s sausages and a pot of coffee before muttering about needing a shave and vanishing into the bathroom. 

The sea of empty plates stood testament to just how famished they’d both been after getting entirely too caught up in the giddy highs of the day before to remember dinner…and there had been that whole…in the bed…with…best not think about that when attempting to concentrate, Q decided, knocking back the last of his tea with a regretful sigh at having had to rush his tannin based delights. Much better plan to steel himself for the impending chaos that the journey was just BOUND to be, because really, two double 0 agents effectively fleeing a country one of them had blown up a small chunk of was just not conducive to a quiet day, was it!

Strolling to the steam filled bathroom, Q dropped the fluffy white robe he’d donned to eat in at the door without even breaking his pace. Which was a bloody miracle and a clear sign he’d been spending far too much time around people who moved like jungle cats, because if he’d tried a move that slick at home, he’d ABSOLUTELY have ended up on his arse! Not that it mattered now though because James was watching him with hooded, heavy eyes from the warmth of the shower, the view before Q as he rounded the misted screen the sort of thing his feverish mind couldn’t have conjured even after a furtive, late night google search into the deeper recesses of the internet. God James was gorgeous. Also rock hard and just from watching Q walk in. Wow.

Of course the smug bastard KNEW he was gorgeous too, the smirk tilting his lips up was altogether too sure and for once, in just this one, last moment of absolute freedom awarded to him Q decided to ignore the neon flashing danger sign that perpetually hung over this man in his mind and take what he wanted, sod the consequences.

James must have seen the change roll over him, because that smile softened, blue eyes regarding Q with something that usually would have terrified him, but now, merely cemented the decision even more firmly within a brain that was grinding to a halt on merely the one thought…

“My turn.” Q murmured, fingers twining with those of the hand held out to him, plastering himself against the slick, wet expanse of James’ body and falling into the slow, tasting kiss beneath drenching shower spray. It was a temporary claim he held, at best, but Q was going to make DAMN sure it was one James would remember because…well, doing things by halves was simply not within his vocabulary and if he was only going to get this one shot, it was going to be the best one he could give it!

Apparently James was of a similar mind, the hand that had fallen to Q’s waist delving lower to grab a healthy handful of backside and press them together on a grind of hips that forced the kiss to part for matching, filthy groans and Q to duck his head, nuzzling nips and bites to scar riddled shoulders. It was just as well James was holding him up too, since Q’s knees gave up any pretence of working when a thick, water assisted finger slithered into the crease of his arse and stroked lazily at the pucker of flesh there.

“Nghh no time…” Q managed on a moan, not even bothering to hide the pained sigh of regret in the words because…oh god, how he wished! The staggering bolt of need that had gone straight to his cock at the glancing brush of that finger, now joined by a friend and jesus…well, it would be featuring heavily in Q’s alone time for quite some years to come.

“Let me…” he purred instead, directly into James’ ear with a wet lap of his tongue, his hands finding their way into the tiny slither of air between their hips to nudge the solid body back, cool tiles meeting broad shoulders on a hiss as Q dropped to his knees and let himself look back up. Well. If the view had been good before, now it was just…wow. James was a mess, in possibly the single most flattering way ever seen by mankind and from his position between muscled, tanned thighs, Q felt his mouth water hungrily.

Those painfully blue eyes were dark and so heavy lidded with lust they were reduced to glowing slits in a pleasure slackened face that watched him, a low, guttural groan escaping James when Q set his hands to work, smoothing their way over thick, water slippery cock in a firm, squeezing stroke. He was already starting to regret the fact that he’d missed his one opportunity to feel that delicious heat sliding home within him, but Q was not about to give THIS chance up, even if he had a great deal less time than he would have liked to spend on it.

Shakily, because, oh fuck it, the entire situation was robbing him of BRAINS, he managed a grin up at James’ less than coherent face before he ducked his head and put his mouth to work where he’d wanted it to be from the start. The shattered moan and thunk as thick skull met tiled wall only serving to spur Q on, tongue pressing against the head as his mouth closed around slick, wet cock and he gave in to the temptation to just TASTE.

Dimly, he was aware of a hand in his hair, tightening on it with every pull backwards he gave and Q found himself suddenly and utterly determined to push James out of his careful control and see what he was really capable of just for the memory alone. Well, that, and the noise the man made when Q stopped being gentle altogether and greedily took as much as he could, feeling his gag reflex protest for a moment before he had it under control and swallowed around the throb he felt ripple through James.

“OhGOD, Q…jesus, you‘re incredible…” He heard James choke out over the drumming of water and thunder of his own heart racing. Then the hand in his hair fisted there and restraint was a thing long gone from the entire situation, Q’s nails leaving half moon indents in the hips he clung to as James struggled hopelessly to fight off the inevitable for a last few stuttering thrusts.

Q knew exactly what it was that finally forced him to pry a hand from the silky roll of delicious hips and close a fist around his own cock desperately, he wasn’t likely to forget it, EVER, the sight would be seared onto the inside of his eyelids forever more now. It was the utterly stunned, clear blue eyes that found his and somehow managed to stay open even as James shuddered his last and came with a moan that sounded like it had been forcibly ripped from him right along with his orgasm, spilling hotly into an eager mouth that unrepentantly swallowed him whole.

It was enough to drag Q with him too, releasing a hoarse cry of his lovers name when James slipped free of his lips and collapsed to his knees before Q, seizing him in a filthy, open mouthed kiss under the stream from the shower as Q shuddered his way through the aftershocks of a truly spectacular orgasm of his own. And all from watching James come apart under his hands. Jesus.

“Don’t think I can move…” He managed dopily, gradually coming back to his body and realising that somehow, he was sprawled astride James’ lap, a limp, boneless heap held up apparently exclusively by his living chair and the deliciously rough hands that were stroking soothing caresses over him.

“S‘ok, we‘ll just live here.” the low murmur at his ear was both amused and flatteringly out of it enough to get Q, with a frankly superhuman feat of strength given his current condition, to lift his head and nuzzle a cheek in the gloriously warm stream of water working it’s way off them both.

He wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting the aftermath of the entire, heady, impossibly sexy event to be, but to find his face suddenly framed in gentle hands as James pressed the most tender of kisses to much abused mouth was not it. Neither was the lopsided, secret smile he was awarded before James tugged him down, pressing their foreheads together and nuzzling at Q like the giant cat he apparently was beneath the brute force and ignorance.

It felt…amazing however. The kind of amazing that Q feared would rip him open and lay his poor little heart bare when it was gone, a prospect that caused something in his chest to clench with pain.

“We should go…” he whispered, hyper aware of the catch in his voice and every inch of James as Q was held against the man like some precious, incredibly delicate treasure.

“In a minute.” Was all the reply he got and Q took it with both hands, literally, wrapping himself around James and burying his face in the crook of bullet scarred shoulder, soaking up every last second he was free to pretend he could have this.  
“Ok.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Q deals with 4 year olds pretending to be grown ups, has a minor moment on a runway and there are LOTS of film quotes. (See the end notes for details on those!)
> 
> Also, I believe I can safely say that at this point, I know all there is to know about the marvel that is the [Cessna 172](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cessna_172). Ahh research...

Q was determinedly NOT going to think about the time they’d spent, curled together in that shower, their breathing and the gentle noise of water splashing the only sounds around them. Frankly it wasn’t the sort of thing he suspected he’d ever forget and later, when they were home and this was all some ridiculous story he’d look back on fondly in his dotage, he knew full well he’d be able to recall with absolute and blinding clarity every second of it. For now, however, it seemed a lifetime ago, and that was purely down to sharing a car journey with two of the single worst backseat drivers he’d ever had the misfortune to share a vehicle with.

Let him drive, James had said, tossing the keys over with a grin that in retrospect, Q should have known was in fact a portent of DOOM on a double 0 sized scale, but no, punch drunk and barely awake he’d been a total IDIOT and cluelessly slid into the drivers seat with nary a backward glance, hadn’t he! Well, that was another useful life lesson learnt right there. If anyone capable of killing someone with a paperclip offered to let you drive, much like the swimming thing that had started this whole ridiculous mess, JUST SAY NO. Better yet, run in the opposite direction because THIS, he decided as James and Alec reverted to slapping each other silly in the back seat for what was probably the fourth time in their short journey, was why people doing the school run had that harried, slightly twitching look about them, wasn’t it…oh god, the pair of morons in the back had turned him into a suburban mother…

“JAMES! Really?!” He snapped, eyes flicking up to the rear view mirror as a particularly nasty blow caught Alec straight in the face and the inevitable nosebleed began to flow,  
“If you don’t stop behaving like four year olds I swear to god I am turning this car around and LETTING those half arsed morons SHOOT YOU. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?”

“He started it.” Came the sulking, huffed reply as James reluctantly slithered back over to his side of the bench seat, arms crossed in the very picture of petulance.

“You lying bastard! All I said was you looked like you were going SOFT and…OW!” Alec’s muffled through hanky to the face tirade was cut short by Q taking full advantage of the traffic lights having hit a red, enabling him to lean around from the front and lay a stinging slap to sprawled thigh in a move eerily reminiscent of one he remembered from his own childhood car journeys. Jesus, wasn’t that just a hideous prospect, he wasn’t a suburban mother…he was HIS OWN FATHER…oh god…where was a cafe and the hallowed call of TEA when you needed it because there surely weren’t enough leaves in the world to make this acceptable!

“HUSH, right now! James, stop looking so smug, you‘re as bad as each other!” He managed, turning back just in time for the lights to go green, leaving him unable to exact any further punishment beyond a steely glare backwards in the mirror and a loud,  
“And put your bloody seat belts on.”

Good GRIEF, not enough that he was currently on the hit list of every cliché drug dealer and third rate scum bag this side of the equator, NO NO, karma had decided that he was to play nursemaid to a pair of sulking, blunt instruments whinging on about how long the journey was taking when on the way to re-steal an already hot light aircraft and…no, really not a good idea to consider that part, this whole thing was enough, dammit!

“Turn left at the junction, mind the van…”

“Yes, THANK YOU, 006. I believe I can, in fact read the massive signpost telling me which direction to go in.” Q hissed, dutifully turning into the car park with perhaps a touch more speed than necessary and choosing to ignore the light bickering that was occurring behind him.

“How come I’m still 006 and you’re _James_?!”

“Cos you’re an idiot and he doesn‘t like you?”

“Fuck you very much, mate! I’m not the one who brought back the last prototype gun in bits dumped into a Tesco bag! He LOVES me.”

“Factors outside of my control result in the destruction of weapons, it‘s a hazard of the job. Which you would know if you ever HAD any dangerous jobs!”

“Dangerous jobs my ARSE! You were on the bloody firing range with it!”

“Can I help it if you fail to test weapons properly?! That needs an EXPERIENCED hand thank you!” 

Alright, so Q wasn’t IGNORING it so much as refusing to dignify it with any form of response beyond grinding teeth and white knuckles on the steering wheel because that Tesco bag incident remained up there in the top five reason why Q branch developed a twitch around James. Bastard. Evil, weapons killing BASTARD.

“Oh look, we‘re here…” he muttered darkly, yanking on the handbrake and dragging the car to a spinning halt that threw the pair of oversized children in the back into each other with a pleasing cacophony of pained grunts. It did also drop the car neatly into the parking bay, but that was rather secondary to the former result in Q‘s mind.

All those hours with GTA had been COMPLETELY worth it!

“I told you to put your seatbelts on.“ He said serenely into the stunned silence, carefully switching the engine off and taking a calming deep breath,  
“Now, let’s just attempt to find the plane without any major international incidents shall we…”

Well, any MORE major incidents, anyway, because he was pretty sure from the twelve missed calls and uncountable levels of unanswered texts he’d glimpsed on his phone before he’d shoved it blindly into a pocket, that he was going to have some fairly heavy explaining to do over the LAST one when they hit home…

Ohhh…the thought of home was so nice. No heat or cloying humidity, significantly less chance of being shot at and the bliss of a decent cuppa. Of course home also meant no room service, no giddy thrill of the whole ridiculous adventure and rather more painfully…no James. Bugger.

Clambering out of the car whilst attempting to appear nonchalant took up a whole sixty precious seconds of time that Q used to remind himself that it was fine, because really, what plane piloted by a double 0 agent ever cras…yeah, maybe find a different reasoning, how about…the odds of bad things happening were significantly reduced when you took into account the fact that he was being chaperoned by TWO double 0 agents? 

That one, he mused watching the idiots unloading the bags Q had flat out refused to leave behind in the hotel, flight for their lives or not (because one simply did not ABANDON tech, thank you James), might have been more convincing were they not shoving each other off the curb in a fit of childish pique. Honestly, it probably would have been at least amusing were it not for the overwhelming sense of dread that was settling like a bad curry in the pit of Q’s stomach. 

Planes…why was it ALWAYS fucking PLANES…oh god, if he survived this one, he was never setting foot on so much as a RUNWAY again. EVER.

Following in the wake of the grinning morons he was dubiously relying on getting him home intact, Q found himself suddenly staring at…well…

“It’s a little baby…planelet…” He managed weakly, hands fidgeting on the handle of his tatty little holdall as if it were the last solid thing on the planet. BECAUSE IT BLOODY WAS, OK?! They expected him, a man with a better than AVERAGE understanding of the severely flawed (OH YES THEY WERE, gravity would win in the end, EVERY TIME!) physics mankind had based powered flight on, to get into something that looked like a primary school craft project! 

Apparently the immense likelihood of a fiery death had failed to phase Alec, mind you, since he was already strapping the bags into the spare front seat, Q’s holdall whipped from his grasp and being added to the pile as it’s owner was reduced to staring in silent, abject HORROR at the mere prospect of what lay before him.

They were all going to die.

This was SO not the way Q had always envisioned his final foray in the world. Working for The Company rather put shit in perspective for you most of the time and when, inevitably, he’d imagined his last stand, it had always been rather more…technology based, really. Server explosion, perhaps? Getting strangled in his own Ethernet cabling by a sentient weapon gone rogue? That one had a nice ring to it…

Probably not a good sign that the thought was a comforting one, was it? The marginally hysterical laugh that escaped him, that wasn’t all that awesome either because now James was looking at him funny. That was the sort of thing that the psychologists would have a merry little meeting over when his next evaluation came up, wasn‘t it. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken that bet with Eve over which one of them could freak out the head doctors the most, they still crossed the bloody corridor to avoid him now and his last mandatory evaluation had been months back…

“Q? It’s just a short flight, I promise. Alec can handle it…”

Alright, so there may have been a whimper, but Q was resolutely ignoring any noise leaving his body frankly because anything that wasn’t baseline panicked screaming he was going to consider a success and run with, so ya know, ok, whimpering, not the MOST butch reaction, but fuck words! Words were for the coherent, THOSE NOT ABOUT TO DIE…

There were familiar, rough hands on his arms, smoothing down the goose bumped, clammy skin for a moment before he was hauled against sandalwood scented chest he clung to without any regard whatsoever for shame. Shame had taken a holiday along with words, apparently, and become a luxury he just didn’t have at the moment thanks very much…still though, being pressed up against James was rather nice, distractingly so, really…

“I’ll sit in the back with you, does that help?” The warm, low murmur against his ear was nice too and Q managed a nod against warm throat, finding the spit necessary to lick his dry lips and get something of a grip again because seriously, head of department here, trained and everything. This was rather letting the boffin side down and that just wasn’t acceptable!

“S’fine…” he managed in what was evidently the least convincing tone known to mankind if the sceptically raised blonde brow that met his gaze when he drew back was anything to go by, but none the less, James cast him a crooked, disgustingly attractive grin and held out a hand into the scant gap Q had put between them,  
“Do you trust me?”

“Ohhh good lord, you did not just quote Aladdin at me…” 

“Yes, he did!” Alec’s cheery cry was NOT HELPING and once again, Q found himself wondering in a moment of narrow eyed glaring, if it were actually possible to kill a man by thought alone. He’d have to throw that one on the research pile when they got back…IF they got back…oh god. Right, mind back in the game because James, the delicious great oaf was glancing between them like they’d both sprouted second heads and Q found himself entirely unable to resist the genuine smile that spread over his face at the sight. 

“Your pop culture knowledge is woeful and for the record, that‘s the shittest magic carpet ever…” He giggled, slipping his hand into the one that had remained offered, hanging in the air in blithe, unconcerned ignorance of the entire situation with it’s owner until Q took pity on them both,  
“Yes, of course I bloody do, you blithering idiot, with everything. Come on, let’s get this hell ride over with and then you can tranq me for the next flight…” He paused, dragging James after him into the tiny baby planelet and attempting not to think about his surroundings in any way, shape or form,  
“That didn’t come out right, but…yeah, you get the idea. Me not awake, long flight, thanks.”

“I’d not make you stay awake for this one but we need you to hack the flight plans and hide the lear when we nick it, love.” James murmured, with something akin to actual regret in his voice that Q noted with a miracle of a smile that was only MARGINALLY shaky. It was in better condition than his hands, which were veering more into the DETOX level shaky spectrum, to the point where James was forced to take over fitting the seat belt over Q’s body with a winking leer that absolutely did NOT derail the panic. Well, ok, maybe a bit. Tiny amount, really, wholly unnoticed…god he was gorgeous when clearly in his element.

Later, when the whole sorry nightmare was over with, Q would kick himself for missing the glint of gun barrels behind the fence until the moment they were aiming at them and the first few shots ricocheted about the plane like artillery based hale on a stormy day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Q's reaction to the plane and “It’s a little baby…planelet…” is in fact a direct quote from a film called "The Matchmaker", it's funny, and I love it. Apparently both Q and I are into watching crap on the movie channels in the dead of night!
> 
> Also, the Aladdin quote...NECESSARY. S'all I'm saying.
> 
> Also also, sorry for the cliffhanger...but not really :-D


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Q up's his BAMFness a notch and learns to loathe Cessna 172's just that little bit more...

Something, and Q had sneaking suspicion it was a thing as dirty as Company TRAINING, had kicked in within his suddenly operating on nitro mind and without giving the concept any thought whatsoever, he’d lurched forward to fist a hand into the back of James’ T shirt. Just as well he had too, he realised with the sort of out of body view of the situation you usually only got in dreams, because the suicidal MORON was leaning out of the open door to return fire with the ever present Walther as Alec did the quickest take off check ever experienced and began the Cessna’s painfully slow taxi onto the runway.

With the engine running and the door wide open, the noise was almost deafening, which, all things considered, Q was quite alright with for the moment because at least it deadened off the sound of bullets smacking into the ridiculously frail little plane and well, if he’d thought they were likely to die before, he was hitting it as a pretty heavy certainty now…

Curiously, the one, slightly wistful thought that sped through his wind whipped head was that he wished he’d told James his name…and then the entire bloody plane began to shake around him as it made it’s rocky way onto the end of the runway.

“Anytime, Alec…I’ve got all day…” James shouted back, sending a few shots off and hitting true at least once, since the hail of impact to fuselage noises lessened slightly. Apparently even the double 0’s missed occasionally when on the world’s least stable shooting platform then. It was a less comforting thought NOW than Q imagined it would be at other times though…

“Alright, alright, keep yer knickers on, you realise this poor bloody thing needs a RUN UP for this, don’t you?!”

Drawing onto the end of the tarmac strip drew them parallel to those CLICHÉ arseholes and their altogether DULL machine guns and Q suddenly found himself ducking into the seat as another rain of bullets pinged off metal around him. Lifting his head again in a shower of broken glass that cut like knives across his cheek as a window bit the dust, he cleared the windswept hair from his eyes just in time to see James thrown back against the doorframe, an ugly and hideously wrong blossoming of red spreading like ink in water over the once white t shirt at his side in a way that inexplicably made all the noise and chaos around them fall into utter silence for a moment.

After that, it was something of a blur, really. He was aware he was moving, suddenly rock steady hands freeing him of the seatbelt and dragging the deadweight of his agent back into the seat beside him before wrestling with the loose and bullet riddled door over James’ slack body enough to yank it shut,  
“GET THIS THING IN THE AIR RIGHT NOW ALEC OR I WILL HACK YOU SO HARD EVEN TOASTERS WILL SHUN YOU!”

In retrospect, he may have struggled to follow that one up, but as he was ruthlessly ripping the fabric away from a now entirely crimson stained chest, Q really decided he had some leeway in the threat stakes and it would be easier to just go with it for now. Evidently it had been enough to work at least, since the first, sickening lurch his gut gave a moment later was enough to tell him wheels had left ground and they were steadily climbing out of shot range.

There was shouting from Alec in the front, impossible to understand over the noise of the wind through broken windows and the engine struggling to reach altitude. Fuck it, whatever it was, it could wait because long, now gore stained fingers had found the wound on James and were frantically feeling around it for damage. It was…oh god…just a scrape! Hadn’t even really done more than rob the giant fool of a chunk of flesh, MAYBE cracked a rib with the impact and THANK FUCK for that summer Q had been so bored he’d read all the medical textbooks in the uni’ library! 

Forehead dropping to the less pot holed shoulder before him, Q allowed himself a shaky exhale of breath, one hand pressing the remains of the t-shirt to the wound. TYPICAL that NOW he’d started shivering like leaves in a breeze again, wasn’t it! Honestly, the human anatomy was so completely unprepared for being around people like these two cloth headed MORONS, it was laughable.

“Oh god don’t EVER do that to me again…” he murmured into the warm skin, realising even as the words left his mouth that of COURSE it would happen again. Probably next bloody week at that since James was utterly incapable of keeping himself intact from one job to the next. It happened all the time on the comm lines, more frequently than Q could even recall, if he were honest, but watching it, seeing the usually so very ALIVE man under his hands go down like that…well…that one wasn’t something to linger on while still in the middle of a clusterfuck of epic proportion.

Alright, he could do this. This was just basic field medicine and absolutely in no way was he suspended in the air in a shattered Cessna, holding a pressure bandage over an open wound in the man he…fuck, don’t even think it. This was going to be a seriously long hour as it was, THAT sort of thought process was NOT helping. Time to snap out of this borderline hysteria based panic and DEAL WITH THIS.

Forcing himself to get a grip through the thrum of an adrenaline rush that outstripped basically anything he’d ever experienced before, he took a steadying breath, lifting his head and reaching up his spare hand to feel around the back of lolling blonde head. Ahh. The socking great lump he could feel forming there explained a lot. Knocked out cold on the door frame then, but the pulse Q pressed two fingers too was as solid and strong as the idiot it belonged to, so a smacking headache was a small price to pay, he supposed.

Not that James was going to see it that way…

Something nudged at his shoulder and Q actually jumped, startled from his unwavering watch on James to snap his head around and come face to face with the ugliest looking headset he’d ever seen dangling from Alec’s hand in silent, apologetic invitation. Urgh…evidently whatever hole in the ground the idiot had nicked the plane from had been SEVERELY lagging behind in tech terms if those godawful relics were anything to go by.

Snatching them with the hand NOT currently slippery with blood, Q managed, after a couple of one handed attempts, to put the hideously outdated things on, flicking the microphone up in time to hear the sort of tone he was much more accustomed to in his ear at home,

_“How bad?”_

At least the double 0’s didn’t beat around the bush when one of their own was bleeding sluggishly into aging upholstery, had to give them points for that!

_“Flesh wound…”_ Q replied, hearing the headset distort his voice, and allowing a knowing smile to curve his lips at the words as he turned to see Alec’s relieved grin flash over his shoulder,  
 _“Also concussion probably, but at this point, that’s like a hangover for him, isn‘t it.”_

_“Aren’t they always! See if you can wake the lazy bastard up then, can’t have him napping while the kids are awake and holding him together now can we!”_

_“I’m twenty bloody seven! The age jokes are bordering on pathetic at this point you know!”_

The cackle of laughter that drifted through the headset reduced Q to rolling his eyes before Alec gleefully added an addendum,  
 _“I’d apologise, lad, but you’d never respect me in the morning!”_

_“Oh shut up and just tell me this knackered bloody wreck is actually going to make it to Miami, would you!”_ Q replied, hiding his smile as he turned back to James’ slumped form. Wouldn’t do to show weakness to more than the one double 0 in a week, after all. The department would be over run with them in mere MINUTES, all demanding ridiculous bloody things that exploded the very second they scented weakness! The lot of them were like circling sodding SHARKS at the prospect of new toys!

Carefully, he peeled the blood soaked bundle from the wound to check the state of the unconscious, HOPELESS idiot he was apparently destined to spend his days patching up in unlikely circumstances, content that at least the bleeding seemed to be slowing up reasonably well. Which…was a bloody (HA! Ooo irony, look at that!) miracle considering they were dangling above the ocean in the most rickety form of aircraft in the known world without any form of air pressure and…OH GOD FLYING…not good, so many levels of not good…

_“She’ll get there! Sturdy little buggers, the Cessna’s! Course, you lot could look into making us a better one, you know…for the field…”_

Annnnd there it was, bloody double 0’s, beautifully predictable in their own, special way…

_“If you’re a very good boy and make sure we all live through this, you MAY get a nice weapon for Christmas, but don’t push your luck, 006!”_

_“Awww, I was Alec for a while there and everything, thought you were warming up to me, Q!”_

Luckily for their pilot for the afternoon, James chose that particular moment to rise from the happy dream land the doorframe had put him in with a wince just as Q had been reapplying the makeshift dressing to his side. Rather poor timing on his part, really, but then he’d always had a habit of turning up at the least opportune moment possible, so Q was going to let this occasion go on the basis that at least he was…you know, ALIVE!

“SIT. STILL.” He shouted over the rattling din, batting at the hand that automatically reached for the leaking hole in it’s owners side and finding himself entirely unable to hide the slight smile that crossed his face as through his headset, Alec’s reaction to the noise appeared as an audible yelp followed by a third example of the pitiful headgear being shoved into his shoulder,

_“For Christ’s sake give him those before you deafen me!”_

Evidently James, despite the crater in his flesh…or maybe because of it, it was always hard to tell with the double 0’s when injured…had come round enough to groggily reach for the ugly bloody thing, putting it on with a grunt when the bump on the back of his head made itself known. Definitely not happy about that one then, as predicted.

Probably shouldn’t have been comforting, Q decided, knowing someone so well you’d correctly guessed that they’d be more pissed off about a hopefully minor concussion than the BULLET WOUND that, from the way James was holding himself at least, had moved that possible cracked rib up to a definite. Bloody was though, his residual smile lifting into a full blown grin of sheer, abject relief.

_“You’re an idiot, have I mentioned that recently?”_

Naturally, because from all Q had seen, all the double 0’s were essentially inhuman when it came to pain thresholds, James smirked, fixing Q with a bleary eyed, raised brow and a vague gesture at his bare torso,  
 _“You know, if you wanted me half naked, love…just had to ask…”_

There would be a point, Q knew, when the roller coaster of emotions this entire sodding trip had been would catch up with him hard enough to knock his knees out from under him and leave him sobbing quietly in a corner somewhere, but that moment was some time off yet, dammit, and fucked if he was going to go down without a fight. ESPECIALLY not one that involved a windswept, bobbing little plane that gave new meaning to the word ‘turbulence’, whilst James was a medical mess under his gore stained hands.

Forcing himself to ignore the lurch of the plane and the fact that it was growing DANGEROUSLY close to making his breakfast repeat itself rather violently, he took a deep, quelling breath and settled himself astride a blood splattered thigh so he could more comfortably keep pressure on the soggy t shirt against James’ side. ABSOLUTELY in no way considering the fact that they were in a shattered plane, he wasn’t wearing a seat belt and the ONLY man alive he would EVER be willing to go through any of this UTTER madness for was leaking gently around Q’s own fingers. Nope, not even crossing his mind.

Maybe. Oh god this was not how he wanted to die.

Shakily, he raised the hand not pressed into warm, blood soaked skin and held a finger in front of hazy, blue eyes, attempting a smile when warm hands appeared at his hips, anchoring him in place as the plane shuddered and dropped,  
 _“Follow this, smartarse, and…just…for fucks sake don‘t die, alright?”_

_“Told you, not leaving.”_

_“Well you’d better bloody not, you still owe me dinner and don’t think something as piffling as DEATH is going to get you out of that one, chum!”_

At least those painfully blue eyes were looking a bit brighter and responding properly…ish. It was as good as Q was going to get given the conditions, anyway, and picking his battles today was clearly the only sane option to take. Actually, that should probably be qualified with an ‘ish’ too, since sane people just didn’t GET INTO these ridiculous situations, did they! Nooo, they had nice, quiet, sensible lives in which their greatest worry was if they’d got that bit of chicken out of the freezer in time to defrost for dinner, not if their…WHATEVER…had been SHOT AT today…

_“You’re bleeding…”_

A big, callused hand closed around Q’s throbbing cheek in possibly the most gentle of touches ever seen despite the yo-yoing of the Cessna and Q couldn’t help but snort a laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation,  
 _“Don’t know if you noticed, but so are you…”_

_“I always get shot, you weren’t supposed to.”_

And oh god, the pained honesty in those woozy, blue eyes made something buried in Q’s chest clench for a second before he’d blinked away the feeling enough to find his game face once more and grin, tilting his face into the palm at his cheek and pressing a kiss there,  
 _“Yes, well, I didn’t, so the Aston’s are safe for another day…”_

Whatever the end of that sentence had been trailed off when blonde lashes dusted a battle scarred cheek and Q was forced to heavily shove the…well, marginally less injured half of the man with a desperation tinged yelp,  
 _“NO…nono…don’t you fall asleep on me James! Concussion, and I’m not a medic enough to tell if you’ve done your thick skull a proper injury!”_

_“M’awake…awake…stop shaking me before you dislodge something vital!”_

_“Like your brain? Bit late for worry about that one, idiot.”_ Q replied with a grin, lacing the fingers of his free hand through the now gore stained one that had fallen from his cheek to lay, neglected and loose on the upholstery. Which…well that was new. He’d never really been especially tactile, when you were a child with an adults mind, people tended to not know what to do with you so he was used to the way most backed off from him. James though, the unpredictable, cuddling bastard, had evidently changed that in a matter of mere days because now, the action hadn’t even been a conscious thought. Huh.

The entire thing was sheer madness, of course, getting this close. Well…allowing yourself to pretend you’d got that close anyway, but when faced with imminent, air travel based death upon the roughest flight ever seen by geek kind, Q was finding it increasingly easy to re-evaluate his position on things. 

Absently, he wondered if it might be worth doing some sort of study on that one day, in the increasingly unlikely event he actually LIVED, that is. Some sort’ve paper on the effects of high octane, repeated near death experiences on the active mind…something like that…

_“I’ll do you a deal, stay awake until I can get Alec to check you over and I’ll tell you my name.”_

If anyone had asked him where the merry hell those words had come from, he’d have been UTTERLY unable to tell them, but now they were out there, free range in the world, Q found himself wondering why he’d held off so long on it.

Well.

Wasn’t today just FULL of surprises?!

The hand linked with his own squeezed and he looked back up in time to see that annoyingly wonderful little half smirk slide over James’ face,  
 _“Deal.”_


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Q enjoys his feet being on solid ground again, even if it's rather temporary!

Some hasty, ghetto repairs to the broken window involving a clipboard and roll of duct tape he’d discovered under one of the seats, and sixty of possibly the longest minutes of Q’s life later, Alec had managed, inexplicably, to get the shattered remains of the Cessna to land in what appeared to be the worlds smallest airport. Seemed fitting, really, considering the bloody PLANE had barely been bigger than a Volvo estate, Q decided, stumbling shakily onto solid ground and somehow resisting the urge to fall to his knees and kiss it in relief.

True to his word, James had indeed remained upright and conscious for the remains of the journey, albeit almost exclusively down to both him and Alec reverting to being four year olds again and demanding an endless stream of Eye Spy games though. Which…yesss. For his own sanity, Q was going to pretend the last hour or so had, in fact, been a hideous fever dream brought about by the VAST quantities of tranquilisers he was going to take when he was on board a stolen Lear jet. If he didn’t, he was starting to suspect he’d develop something of a twitch if he ever heard the words “cloud”, “blood”, “ _cock_ pit” or “sky” again…

“Where the hell are we and why is no one questioning us landing that wreck?! It looks like we got mugged by migrating geese with Uzi’s mid flight!” He said when, at last, after several deep breaths of air not whipping past his nose at a dangerous rate of knots had calmed his rolling stomach enough to make words again.

Alec, sodding, bouncy, unconcerned by life, the universe and everything ALEC, beamed at him like the truly obnoxious little shit he was, jumping out of the plane and slinging an arm gleefully around Q’s narrow shoulders as he took in the deserted, empty field filled vista around them with a broad, all encompassing gesture of his free hand,  
“Welcome to MIAMI, Q!”

In the distance, somewhere, an unimpressed cow mooed over the sounds of crickets rubbing their greedy little hands together in the long grass. The silence was frankly terrifying after an hour of almost deafening engine and wind noise.

“It’s funny, I always imagined it to be more… _populated_ …” Q replied, dark brow rising as he flicked a dry glance up at Alec’s face and shoved his hands into his pockets to prevent himself reaching automatically for his phone and the GPS glory within it. Better not to know, especially with these two…

“Welllll, you know, thought I’d ease you back into civilisation gently.” Alec smirked, apparently completely unperturbed by the fact that they appeared to have landed in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Not that Q could ever remember actually seeing Alec ever really overly concerned about anything…much like James, the man operated on a whole other scale to lesser mortals, so clearly wherever the hell they were, it was fine. Also NOT IN THE AIR, that…that part Q was very fond of.

“Alec, stop fart arsing around, take your paws off my quartermaster and go and nick a jet.”

The grin that slithered over Q’s face when he felt the arm around his shoulders be nudged away less than delicately to be replaced by a far more familiar one at his waist was probably pathetic, but they weren’t dead, they weren’t in a swiftly collapsing light aircraft and apparently they were well on their way to going home, so he was just going to roll with it. He could care about how little give a fuck he had left at a time when he wasn’t running on fumes and an increasingly desperate wish to NOT DIE.

“He’s MY quartermaster too ya know…”

“No he isn’t, you clubbed someone with his lock picking thingy, he doesn’t like you anymore. Now go and find us something airworthy and comfortable.”

“Why am I doing all the graft here?! Last I checked, you still had all your limbs too, you lazy git!”

For reasons of mystifying qualities that Q was apparently not destined to understand, that earnt Alec merely a raised brow and a long, level look in reply, Q’s eyes flicking between the two as they settled into their comfort zone of endless bickering. Although this did seem rather above and beyond the norm for them…in FACT, he had a sneaking feeling he was currently watching something exceedingly rarely witnessed outside of the exclusive little double 0 circle: the inner workings of their brutal, wonky little minds…

“Ohhh no…nooo…don‘t you DARE…” Alec almost WHIMPERED, and what the very fuck?!

Utterly lost, Q decided that discretion in this…well, it had an air of negotiation about it, was the better part of valour and settled for slumping slightly against James just to feel the warmth of the still bare chest seeping through his own, gore smeared shirt. Shameless? Yes. Did he care? Did he fuck.

“Copenhagen…” James replied smugly, the hand not clutching his wound and the hasty, makeshift bandage Q had fashioned for it curved at Q’s hip, lazily diving under his t shirt to find skin and stroke soothingly in a thoroughly distracting manner that centred all of Q’s attentions in a mere fleeting stroke.

“Oh you UTTER bastard. THIS IS THE LAST TIME!” Alec huffed, turning on his heel and grumpily heading in the direction of the nearest hangar with plodding footsteps, leaving Q’s head snapping between them in utter confusion,

“Wait…what?! What happened in Copenhagen?!”

“Classified.”

Oh NATURALLY the smug face was back now, wasn’t it. Never mind that he’d leaked all over the inside of a tatty excuse for an aircraft for an hour with Q basically sat in his lap, clinging to his hand and playing referee in an endless demonstration of just how limited imaginations could be when concussed and at low altitude. NOW, with the distant sounds of Alec muttering darkly and thumping about in the closest hangar, naturally NOW, James was back to being liquid in his relaxation and grinning at Q as if they hadn’t just narrowly skirted death several times in a row.

“You realise I‘m just going to dig up the files and check later…” Q managed on a huff of laughter, dropping his head to the tempting shoulder beside it and silently vowing to read all the mission reports at a later date for heavy blackmail material reasons.

“Never doubted it.”

Sadly before any chance to wheedle information from James could be used to it’s full potential, the hangar door rolled open, Alec’s painfully cheery form shoving it aside to reveal…what was in Q’s mind a small, earth shattering level MIRACLE.

“Look what I found! S’a bit handy eh!” The perky bastard grinned, propped up against the open door and gesturing at the, well, Q was still trying to take it all in, to be honest, because it looked remarkably like…

“That…” James voiced the thoughts for them both, a brow slipping up as he fixed Alec with a blinding grin,  
“Is a brand new Lear jet, Alec.”

“CORRECT! You know, for a navy man, you’re not entirely useless with planes…”

Unable to prevent the incredulous words escaping any longer, (because, COME ON, this was getting ridiculous now! Their luck was simply NOT that good, please see EXHIBIT A, the gore all over them and the state of their last ride!) Q pointed a copper stained finger at the bloody great thing, as it sat there looking like the most incongruous discovery known to on-the-run kind,   
“How the BLOODY HELL did you know that was in there?!”

“He didn’t…” James replied, wincing through the chuckle when he moved forward, dragging Q along with him and clutching a hand to his injured side,  
“He rang for help. Didn’t you, you crafty little shit!”

Slightly shiftily, which for a double 0 was essentially the merest hint of a tick to the muscles of his jaw, Alec made a reasonable stab at nonchalance, a vague hand gesturing back at the flying escape plan as if it were a mere trifling stroke of lottery winning magnitude beating of the odds and not the jackpot billions. He failed miserably at keeping the twinkle of laughter out of his eyes though, his face eventually catching up with a grin,  
“I may have mentioned to some people that we were going to land here…Felix sends his regards...”

The smile was fully in place when he flicked his gaze to Q, and continued,  
“Said he’s sorry he missed meeting the one who keeps us all in check too, but could you find someone else to hack in your lunch break please, the CIA’s starting to get a bit miffed.”

The beaming grin that had crossed Q’s face at the, alright SLIGHTLY back handed compliment slithered immediately back off it again at the latter end of Alec’s words and he was left huffily shoving his glasses back up his nose and eye rolling. Honestly, some people were so SENSITIVE! Did they not realise being hacked was a form of flattery?! Sort’ve. Sometimes. Ok, probably not, but they really did have some vaguely interesting files tucked away on those internal servers that Q had been, admittedly lazily, trying to get at as a way to cleanse his mind while he ate.

“Well fine, since they did provide us with a NICE plane, I suppose I could be persuaded to switch to the FBI for a bit…” he muttered in reply. And really, that would be boring as all hell because he’d already strip mined their servers twice this month alone and no one had even NOTICED! At least the CIA had registered his presence…even if their attempts at defence had been borderline pathetic.

Idly, he wondered if he could actually manage it from here, with merely his phone and the undoubtedly patchy, middle of nowhere signal since it had been a STAGGERING and utterly unprecedented since his early childhood, 48 whole hours without his hands on a keyboard now! What the hell?! It may even have been longer than that, his faithful laptop had been tucked away in the bags for so long and that was just WRONG on so many levels it hurt to comprehend!

Probably best not to at all, frankly, because even the thought brought that familiar itch to his fingertips. The need to be plugged back in to his network and lose himself in numbers again, where things where so beautifully predictable and didn’t result in life altering experiences in showers or James ending up with a hole in his side…which was a sickening call back to the moment if ever there was one. Oh god, field work really SUCKED. That whole decision about never doing this again? COMPLETELY sticking to that!

“Come on…” he managed, a smile tilting his mouth up again as he linked his fingers through much larger, rougher ones and tugged until James gave in and followed,  
“We need to find running water and clean you up. I doubt your friend’ll be too happy to have his jet returned smeared in your blood.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time…” James replied, his grin unrepentant and utterly infectious when Q turned to raise a brow and really, how in the world the man could manage that level of attractive when concussed and wearing a good quantity of his blood on the OUTSIDE was UTTERLY beyond comprehension.

“Ha! Mexico…good times!” Alec cackled, already heading back to the Cessna, hopefully to fetch their bags because Q severely doubted he was about to find a fully stocked medical cupboard in what amounted to a converted cow shed in a field and CLEARLY he needed to start hacking the classified bits of their old case files…

“Career long habit of making a mess, then? And here I thought you just did it to wind me up on a weekly basis!” he snorted, releasing the burly hand to start nudging open the thin little doors that appeared to hide small rooms tucked away inside the hangar, in search of…well, anything with a TAP would do given how utterly disgusting his hands felt. He quite determinedly was NOT thinking about the sting of his cheek either because if it felt that bad, he did most assuredly not want to look at it. Who knew drying blood could be quite so…STICKY?! Maybe that was just James though, extra gooey to heal faster or something, god alone knew what other explanations could be found for the double 0’s ridiculous recovery rate.

“YOU I just like to give a challenge to…” The words were a purr against his ear and Q didn’t even bother to resist the shiver of delight the action brought to him, James catching him around the waist easily and pressing Q against the wall as he nuzzled into the less blood soaked side of the pale throat,  
“Admit it…” a low rumble against his pulse that drew a shuddering breath from Q, his hands curling gently around the less injured bits of chest at his disposal,  
“You like it when I push you…”

Worst of all, Q decided when FINALLY, James gave up the aimless mouthing of his goose bumping skin and just went in for a truly FILTHY kiss, was the fact that the man was absolutely right in every possible way. He LOVED it when he was stood in the middle of his control centre, something, somewhere going horrifically and more often than not, EXPLOSIVELY wrong, James in his ear flirting with him through fire fights and demanding ever more ridiculous things as if Q were indeed the all seeing eye people made him out to be.

It was what he got out of bed for on a daily basis now, the thrill of it, of knowing that at some point in his day his mind was going to be tested…more often than not by the man currently giving new meaning to the words ‘knee weakening’…

“Oh god stop it you two, it’s like watching zombies attempt to eat each other when you’re smeared in blood and my parents shagging when you’re not…just…no…”

Well you had to hand it to Alec, Q decided, both he and James giving into the giggles enough to ruin the moment forever and leave them grinning like idiots, clinging to each other and the wall James had pushed him against.

“Thank you captain killjoy! Just for that, you can sort out this whole mess on me…” James smirked, eyes on Alec even as his hand grabbed a last, cheerful grope of Q’s backside and he threw a wink over his shoulder at the squeak it drew from Q.

Bloody cheek! Actually that was a point, because that devious old bastard had undoubtedly just left a gore stained handprint on his arse…christ he hoped Eve wasn’t going to see that. The lovebites he knew would be visible once the whole…hot mess of god knows what was cleaned off him were bad enough!

Pulling off from the wall as he watched the ONCE AGAIN bickering pair of tools head in the direction of the bathroom Alec had found, he peered awkwardly over his own shoulder, attempting, wildly unsuccessfully, to see the back of his jeans. Maybe he could claim it was his own hand…suddenly grown a great deal larger and…yeah, he was kidding no one here, was he. Bugger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, the airport I used actually exists and is really there, in the middle of a field, on the outskirts of Miami! It geuninely has some converted cow sheds and a double runway with lights...that is about it! It was too perfect not to use :-)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there is heartbreak, secrets are revealed and Q misses important conversations whilst under the influence of incredibly strong drugs...

Scrubbed clean, and having dug out MARGINALLY less filthy clothes for both he and James, Q was left eying the Learjet on the end of the runway with the apprehensive tension of one who’s last foray into the air had been somewhat less than calming. No, that really was the sort of mental understatement that Q simply could not allow to lie. Heart stoppingly terrifying, that was much more like it and even then, it was still a tad LACKING, if you asked him.

It HELPED that he was currently wrapped in James, of course, now fully bandaged and strapped up, all of it hidden beneath a fresh t shirt enough that unless you knew him well enough to see the slight lean to his side, you’d never have even known he’d been injured at all. It felt horribly like wallpapering over the cracks of the situation somehow though, and now the panic and fear had worn down to a dull throb within him, Q found himself returning to the hideous, gut rolling sensation of loss he’d felt in the hypnotic warmth of that shower.

Had that really only been this morning?! Good god, it felt like entire bloody weeks had sped by since then and yet here they were, a mere few hours later and almost home. Not for the first time, he wondered how the hell the double 0’s lived like that, jumping from one disaster to the next when on missions and then coming home to…dreary, rainy London. There was just no comparison, when you looked at it from their point of view, was there.

How could anything as domestic and plain as home POSSIBLY compare to what they saw when they were out in the field? Surely to an adrenaline junky, coming back was like cold turkey! A punishment of a time you did only as payment for the next thrill?

Well. 

That certainly put all those ridiculous little dreams of keeping all of this that he absolutely would NOT admit to having into the starkest of lights, didn’t it. His place, as even James had pointed out, albeit whilst dragging Q’s brains out through a kiss, was not out here with the agents, it was back there, where his mind would be taxed and he’d be in his giddy element once again. It was good for him, being their quartermaster, and it would still contain the parts of James he was allowed to keep because no one was better at it than the two of them together. It was enough.

Maybe if he kept telling himself all of that, it might eventually stop hurting like a BITCH too. Hopefully.

“It’ll be over before you know it, love. You‘ll just wake up at home…” James murmured, tucking Q’s head under his chin as they stood in the shadow of the lear. 

At any other time, Q might have objected to the cuddle on the grounds that he wasn’t a child, he’d survived one hellish nightmare of a flight, thank you very much, he didn’t need the comforting stroke of warm hands at his back and in his hair, or the soft kiss pressed to his crown. Today though, today…was not a good day and the tranquilisers he‘d taken were starting to combine heavily with sheer exhaustion. Today, he was going to take what he could get, and hoard the memory of it for when he got back to his little flat and collapsed face first into the bed. 

If, he decided hazily, inhaling the smell of antiseptic, gun oil and sandalwood that made up James as he buried his face against tanned throat, he made it through all of this without losing his immensely fine thread of control, he might allow himself to have a little cry into a tub of Ben and Jerry’s too. Maybe even a small, tea based shopping spree at Fortnums. He’d earnt that hideously expensive imported blend of theirs, surely?

“Time to go.” Alec prompted quietly, dragging Q’s eyes up to the apologetic glance he was being cast from the door of the Lear. Christ, he must really look a mess if even bloody ALEC was attempting to be gentle with him. Definitely time to man up, but first, there was something he had to do, god knew the man had earnt this much from him.

Leaning up on his tip toes, he nuzzled his way to James’ ear, letting his eyes slip closed to take in every last second of the bittersweet contact for a moment before his lips moved against skin, barely a whisper,  
“Sherry…my family have always called me Sherry.”

Then he pulled away with merely a last, tiny smile at the confused face he knew almost as well as his own and that delicious, wonderful hug to turn his attentions back to the waiting plane, willing himself to breathe.

“It’s fine…” he said to Alec, pasting on a patently false grin he hoped looked better than it felt as he climbed the steps to the plane,  
“I get to sleep through it all, you two have to do the work!”

“Business as usual then!” Alec’s grin was a gentle, soft thing, devoid of any of the usual predatory flash of teeth and Q let his nails bite into the palm of his hand as he climbed the stairs, forcing down the unexpected rush of emotion at such a stupid little act of kindness.

“Yes yes, the world would cease to turn without you two in the field…” he managed, stumbling down the plush, carpeted gangway and making a beeline for the sofa he fully intended to just faceplant into.

It wasn’t that he MISSED the long, questioning look that passed between Alec and James as the door was pulled closed and they dealt with the pre flight checks, it was more that the drugs were making everything distinctly hazy, and god, that sofa was just so COMFY…why did they make them so NICE?! Wow, rich people really new how to travel didn’t they…

Familiar hands were stroking through his hair now too, and that was just so wonderful, Q discovered he didn’t really mind the usually sickening feeling of wheels leaving tarmac, or the lurch to the gut as the plane rose to find it’s cruising altitude. He didn’t even really mind when the hands left him and he was alone again, warm and content, with merely the soft voices he could dimly hear somewhere very far away…

_  
“Stop looking like I ran over your puppy.”_

_“No. I just got shot and my one decent chance to sort it out with him got ruined. By you.”_

_“Didn’t look like you were doing all that badly when I walked in…”_

_“Shut up. It wasn’t about shagging him.”_

_“…good god…could it be that I‘m witnessing the great Bond, FALL?!”_

_“I told you, shut up.”_

_“He got to you, didn’t he! Properly!”_

_“Alec…you are pushing the boundaries of friendship now.”_

_“HA! Ohhh you are SO screwed! This what all the snarling was for when I saw him getting changed earlier? I didn‘t think it was SERIOUS!”_

_“Alright, FINE. YES. I am BEYOND compromised where he’s concerned and I’d rather not examine what that means for him right after he hauled my unconscious body back into a moving plane. Whilst getting SHOT AT. Thank you.”_

_“Dunno mate, he handled it pretty well from where I was sitting.”_

_“…really?”_

_“Threatened me and everything, he was bloody terrifying.”_

_“He’s always been good in a crisis, Eve says it’s like watching a conductor at work when he’s on the comm lines…”_

_“Look at you, getting all misty eyed!”_

_“Boundaries, Alec…”_

_“Alright, alright, I’m stopping now! BUT…he’s good for you, so don’t balls it up.”_

_“I fully intend not to, thank you. Cheers for that little vote of confidence too, by the way!”_

_“Always! Did I tell you about this charming little thing I met in the pub at home before I last left…”  
_


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there are SECRETS...secrets just falling out all over the place and Q reaches the end of his tether...

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!”

“Nothing! He’s FINE!”

“His face looks like it’s seen a war zone and there’s dried blood in his hair, James, that is not FINE!”

“It’s not HIS blood! Not all of it, anyway. It’s more than likely MINE!”

“Oh that makes me feel so much better! Honestly, I’m all relieved now knowing you just smeared our major asset in your own blood. Thank you so much for sharing that…”

“Alec and I are fine, by the way, thanks for asking.”

“Oh shut up! Don’t think you won’t be going straight to medical either! I know a broken rib when I see one and I don’t know what else you’ve got hidden under that shirt, but you’re bleeding through it enough to tell me where to punch you later.”

“Eve, I swear, he’s FINE. Just doped for the flight.”

“If you harmed a hair on that boys head, I will come for you in your sleep, James. My aim will improve GREATLY.”

“He’s twenty seven, hardly a BOY!“

“He’s NOT A FIELD AGENT, James…”

“Alright, alright, I’ll not touch him until you’ve stopped mother henning!”

Evidently the utterly blissful, dream free sleep was over then, Q mused, refusing point blank to move until someone, probably Eve from the utterly seething tone she was using on James, physically shook him. Wow, ridiculously long flights went AMAZINGLY fast when on incredibly hard core tranquilisers didn’t they…that had…almost been bearable! If you discounted basically EVERYTHING that had gone before it up to and including that journey from the hotel…

Vaguely, he recalled being woken a few time by James, gentle hands dragging him upright enough to knock back water and some fruit or shoving him in the direction of the bathroom before he was allowed to collapse once again, deliciously snuggled beneath a sandalwood scented, battered leather jacket. All things considered, if you were going to have to spend the better part of a day on a plane, being drugged out of your mind was the single best way to do it, he decided! It had his firm and happy vote all the way…although obviously he’d rather remove his own fingernails with rusty pliers before agreeing to be anywhere near a plane again, that rather went without saying.

There was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently, Eve’s barely detectable perfume filtering into his groggy senses and he stretched lazily, entirely uncaring of the wrecked picture he undoubtedly made.

“Q? I know you’re probably really quite out of it still, but I need to get you back to the office…”

“M’awake…” he managed, cracking an eye open enough to take in the smiling face above him, meeting it with a woozy grin of his own when he added,  
“Please tell me there’s tea?”

“I’ll see what I can rustle up for you.” came the amused reply.

Ok, maybe home wasn’t ALL bad.

***

The drive back to London vanished in a slowly lifting haze for Q as the drugs finally wore off and he was left with the sinking realisation that he was curled up in the back seat of a company Jaguar, still wearing James’ jacket with the man himself sat a respectable distance from him for the first time since they’d left. The ache that foot of air between them caused in Q’s chest was crushing.

This, then, was how it was going to be now that they were back to reality and no longer merrily living out a fantasy on some bloody paradise island? He wasn’t even sure TEA could fix this. God he needed ice cream. Ice cream and a laptop. Also a secure connection and someone he could fell from a distance to vent his increasingly heartache fuelled foul mood. God help Microsoft later, he decided darkly, burrowing deeper into the jacket as they finally made it back to the office and trailed into the lift up in an uncomfortable silence. 

Clearly Eve was still fuming, even as she threw Q a reassuring smile. Alec and James too busy exchanging entire, silent conversations with each other in mere looks and meaningful glances behind her apparently perfectly composed back and Q found that his ability to cope with the entire, hideous situation was getting terribly threadbare. This, he knew with a distant, apparently still SLIGHTLY drug affected sort’ve realisation, was not going to end well, was it. Awesome. Perfect end to a perfect week, really! Given his luck so far, he’d probably get home to discover his flat had blown up next.

It was only when Eve deposited them at the familiar mahogany door, rapping her knuckles on it three, uber efficient, yet tinged with something violent as she glared at James, times before swinging it open, that Q realised he was still wearing the jacket. Oops?

“Brought you all three of them, Sir.”

“And it’s not even Christmas, you’re too kind, Moneypenny. Show them in.”

Evidently it was so engrained in both James and Alec to just take the bollocking you were about to get like a man and get it over with that they both strode in like they owned the place, the pair of them falling into a braced parade rest on instinct, leaving Q to scurry in behind them and fidget on the end of the row. He absolutely did not cast James’ set jaw a glance as he did so either. Nor was there any kind of quiet, silent vow to do whatever it took to ensure that if there was blame for this one, it would fall on Q himself, because doing that would just have been the action of a lovestruck idiot, wouldn’t it. 

Curiously the long, silent once over M gave the three of them was enough to nudge Q’s chin up a notch and stop his slumped shouldered hiding within the jacket. Bugger the entire bloody situation sideways, he decided, meeting M’s gaze unwaveringly and watching a dark brow lift,  
“I think we can dispense with you reasonably quickly, 006, since, FOR ONCE, you appear to have managed to NOT be the cause of chaos within a mission. On your way. Go home, get some rest, report back in forty eight hours.”

“Er…right…ok, thank you? Sir.” Alec muttered, apparently as surprised as Q for a moment before he threw a wink down the line as he vanished,  
“See you on the other side, chaps!”

The click of the door closing behind him as he left sounded, Q mused distantly, like the loading snap of a Beretta. Could that be a deliberate thing? The doors in the office all rigged to sound familiar to the people working within it? Rather brought a whole new meaning to the idea of corporate design…

“You blew up a compound you were expressly ordered to merely retrieve data from…” M began, matter of factly over the top of a manila folder Q highly suspected to actually contain this months Horse and Hounds being used merely as a prop to put the wind up them. Sadly for M, Q’s limits on what he found intimidating had been really rather considerably upped recently and the all too familiar, silent, solid stare he was being awarded fell impressively short on the newly upgraded Bondscale of abject chaos.

“Yes, I did.” He said, before James could do more than draw breath.

Steely eyed and suddenly utterly determined to stand his ground, Q discovered that just about every bloody minded particle of him had reached the end of a much stretched tether and he just was SO not in the mood for this shit now, dammit! Really, was it SO much to ask that he be allowed to just go the hell home and pretend all of this hadn’t happened?! Also eat a fuck lot of ice cream and watch awful, hideous movies late into the night until the open wound in his heart felt MARGINALLY less likely to just shred him alive…but that part was secondary to the whole section in which he’d GOT THE JOB DONE, frankly!

“All the data made it out securely, Sir, and it was either destroy it or be killed. I chose the preferable option.” He added, crossing his arms over his chest with a soft creak of well worn leather.

Beside him, he was aware of James eyeing him with something that felt painfully like quiet pride, a smile tugging at his lips and Q chose not to examine that one too closely on the basis that the infamous Bond charm had caused enough issues in his once content, if narrow little world. Now was definitely not the time to add anymore.

Implacable as ever, M settled back in his chair, the folder, Q noted with an internal victory dance, abandoned as a lost cause,  
“If there’s a scratch on that jet, it’s coming out of both of your pay.”

“Duly noted, Sir.” James rumbled, the bored tone injected into his tired voice enough to tell Q that he wasn’t alone in having just about had enough all round.

Across from them, M sighed heavily, fingers tenting as he slumped into a pose that made Q’s hackles instantly rise, so often had he seen it, M’s narrowed gaze switching between them for a considered minute before he spoke once more,  
“Much as I’d LOVE to blame this squarely on you, 007, Sherry’s always had a penchant for pyromania, so I’m inclined to let you off this one.”

Oh. Oh he had NOT just…Ohhh you UTTER. BASTARD.

It was the single thought echoing through Q’s otherwise suddenly empty head and for a moment, he longed for a wall into which he could smack it. Repeatedly. Then, NATURALLY, James had whipped round to him with the sort of stunned expression that at any other time, Q would have paid good money to witness cross that face, but for now, was really just the sucker punch at the end of the hideous nightmare unfurling before him.

Oh BOLLOCKS. Well so much for security and secrecy in the work place then. Jesus god, was there simply NO END to this HELLISH WEEK?!

Sadly, before Q’s tired, drugged and over worked mind could even comprehend a way to make all of it just go the fuck away, M was speaking again, lazily pouring himself a snifter of something dark and wet from the crystal decanter on his desk,  
“Told you his name then, did he? Thought as much.”

Internally, Q was screaming merry bloody murder. Depressingly, his vocal chords appeared frozen in panic based silence, which left the entire effect rather less dramatic than it seemed within his own mind.

“I believe he said it was used by his family, actually, Sir…” James said, eyes fixed rather solidly on Q’s face in the sort of gaze that begged for help, even though it’s owner was undoubtedly not going to ask for it any other way. Stubborn bastard. Stubborn, PERCEPTIVE bastard.

“Mmm, that would be because it is. Here, you‘ll probably need this.” M’s reply came gift wrapped with a tumbler of what Q could now tell was the really GOOD whiskey pressed into James’ hand before it was summarily knocked back without a moments pause.

Oh god.

The concept of the twenty five year old malt being cracked out did not assist one little bit in calming in Q’s swan like state, a frantically peddling mind hidden beneath a frozen in stunned silence exterior for a moment longer before at last, he found his voice and thumped a hand flat to the mahogany stretch of M’s desk,  
“Alright, you’ve had your fun, _Father dearest_ , do you think we could POSSIBLY leave the ritual humiliation for another day? It MAY have escaped your notice but I’ve had a SLIGHTLY TAXING WEEK!”  
Fully into his stride now, the dam completely broken on his words, Q raised a bony finger to point squarely at M’s face with an outraged continuation, because, SERIOUSLY, this was just NOT the moment to push him, and dammit, he was going to say his piece now!

“ALSO… _pyromania_?! REALLY? Was it ME that blew up the stables? NO IT WAS NOT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!”

Rolling his eyes on a long sigh, M settled himself back into his chair and held up his hands in the least convincing surrender ever seen, the utterly unimpressed look he threw Q marked by the quirk of a brow and drawled reply,  
“Alright, that one wasn‘t, I’ll grant you, but you can’t deny that you were hardly a stranger to the destructive hobbies, Sherry! Now calm down and leave the histrionics to your brother. He does them better.”

“Oh my GOD, this is EXACTLY why I should have resigned when you took over!” Q huffed, falling into a chair and burying his face in his hands if for no other reason than it meant he could avoid looking at James, who was regarding them both with a more than amused grin tugging at his lips, the shock apparently worn off rather quickly. Either that or he was just REALLY good at hiding it.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You were born for this job and you’re bloody good at it, I wouldn’t have made you leave over something as utterly inconsequential to the work as your being my son.”

Well THAT certainly made Q’s head snap up, blinking silently for a moment as he attempted to take in possibly the nicest thing his father had said to him in years. Where the fuck had THAT come from?! Theirs had always been a tumultuous relationship, his father had been a field agent when Q and his siblings had been children, a distant figure who was rarely at home and when he was actually there, more often than not too injured to indulge over active kids in games. This…well, it was a bit of a revelation, all things in.

“I suspect I’m going to get shot again for this, but dare I ask the family surname?” James’ amusement filled voice filled the stunned silence and at once, both Q and his obnoxious, incapable of keeping anything a secret despite being a SPY, father replied,  
“Classified.”

James, the evil, smirking GIT, just laughed. Heartily at that,  
“So much makes a warped variety of sense now…”

“007...” M began, allowing a barely present smile to grace his lips,  
“I suggest you get yourself to medical, I’m giving both you and _Q_ here a week of downtime for recovery. _Use it well_.”

Q wasn’t even going to think about the stern, meaningful stare M had sent James. Right now, he was more interested in getting to his desk and attacking something, somewhere with extreme bloody prejudice until he felt capable of absolutely nothing else but sleeping for a week. He also resolutely did not look up when he felt the heavy weight of those blue, blue eyes on him as James paused beside his chair for a moment, callused fingertips trailing Q’s hand for a barely perceptible moment before the man was gone, the Beretta click of the door all he left behind.

“What are you going to do now?” M asked, voice suddenly quiet in the room and Q realised with a creeping certainty that for the first time in his life, he was seeing his father less than confident in a situation. It was curiously empowering!

“I’m going to my lab where I’m going to do whatever the hell I want until I want to stop.” He managed, lifting his stormy eyes to meet the dark ones across the room.

“You told him your name.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Was he worth it?”

And that, Q realised with a weary, deep breath, was really the question, wasn’t it. He didn’t miss the tense it was phrased in either, his own, rueful smile rising at the steady look his father threw him. Sadly for both Q and the utter hopelessness of the situation, the answer had already firmly written itself on his psyche in a shower, in the Bahama’s more hours ago now than he even considered counting.

“Yes. He is.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Q licks his wounds and Alec dispenses advice. (The world doesn't end though. Everyone including Alec himself was probably surprised by that.)

True to her word, Eve had been sat at her desk, the scrabble mug beside her and filled with steaming, ambrosial tea that Q fell upon with a whimper of primal delight when he finally left his fathers office.

“So…” she asked, both smile and eyes knowing as she flickered a quick glance from the jacket to the purple marks that marred the pale expanse of Q’s throat,  
“Want to tell me about it?”

“ _God_ no…” Q managed after his first, delicious sip of tannin heaven. Already he could feel the soothing effects it was having on him and he added another couple of slurps in quick succession, just for good measure, cuddling the mug with both hands,  
“I’m going to lock myself in my office and brutally hack the shit out of whoever gets in my way until I can’t see straight. Thanks for the tea though. And the tranquilisers.”

“THAT good then, was it?” Eve’s softly amused voice followed him as he strode out, now more determined than ever to take someone, SOMEWHERE down…maybe the FBI, they always got so uppity when you really went at them, and they were so much more fun to bait than the commercial lot.

The thought, well, the thought and the TEA was enough to sustain his energy until the point he’d breezed past his utterly aghast, floundering minions and slammed the door to his office with the sort of finality that usually kept them from knocking unless the building was on fire. Just for good measure though, he plucked the note pad from his desk and hastily scrawled ‘DO NOT TOUCH DOOR - ELECTRIFIED’ onto the top sheet before ripping it off and sellotaping it over the tiny window. There, that should ensure he was at least left alone until someone lost the inevitable bet on testing the threat.

It felt HIDEOUSLY odd to be standing back in his little sanctuary again after everything that had happened, odd, and unsettling in a way which Q was finding exceedingly hard to get on with. He wasn’t used to this, the come down off the end of what could best be described as a surreal experience to him and was simply another day at work for James and Alec. He was beginning to see why they both took to the more extreme end of sports and pastimes now, how the hell else were you supposed to deal with…THIS?!

At least someone, probably Eve, given her reaction to…everything…had ensured his bags had been deposited there for him already, his tatty satchel now a tad more battle worn than before and bearing more than a few dark red marks. Probably wasn’t all that wise to trail around carrying a bag smeared in the blood of a man that didn’t officially exist, was it. Bugger. He loved that bag.

Sinking into his chair on a sigh, he curled his feet up under him and wriggled until comfort was attained and a keyboard was in reach. There was no way he was going to even contemplate taking off the bloody jacket, not yet, anyway, not until the weird, twitchy feeling had stopped his gut rolling and he thought he could actually manage it without shaking like a leaf.

The thought of it alone was enough to make him drag up a live feed of the CCTV cameras in the medical floor, flipping through them until he came to a familiar face, passed out in a bed and draped in bandages he knew would be lucky to last the day out once James woke up again. At least the silly sod was actually resting…although christ knew what they’d had to dope him with to make him actually sit still and SLEEP like that.

Silently, Q watched the image on his screen for a moment, chewing his lip and letting his fingers beat out a quiet rhythm on the edge of the keyboard. This was how it had always been before, Q on the end of a camera while James was out there in the thick of it, this was how it would be again, it was fine, he could TOTALLY do this. Probably.

Still though, the urge to just go up there was a nagging call in the back of his mind that he ruthlessly ignored, stamping down on it with a frown. No, this was ridiculous, sitting here like some love struck CHILD was just laughable dammit! They were back in the real world again now, where people like Q simply did not get to keep impossible dreams like…well, JAMES. Dragging out the ridiculous fantasy land they’d lived in would only make it harder when, inevitably, Q had to watch James move on without him. Better to just…mourn in private, he still had SOME pride, after all, and just…get on with it.

God, a mere week ago he’d been a perfectly competent human being doing a relatively high powered job and succeeding in winding up various US government agencies for light entertainment in his lunch hour…now…fuck it, Microsoft was going down, he‘d been meaning to get to them since the launch of that hideous touch screen OS, after all and now was just the PERFECT time.

Didn’t stop him leaving the CCTV open in the corner of the screen though. It was entirely platonic concern for a colleague, obviously, nothing more. Not in any way, shape or form because he couldn’t actually bear the prospect of NOT knowing where James was. Never that.

***

Q wasn’t even sure how many hours he’d been curled in his chair, just him and the code, a familiar, comforting spiel of numbers scrolling past his eyes like old friends and numbing the strange sense of displacement down into something far more manageable at the back of his mind. Of course, that may have also been the exhaustion catching up with him, because it had taken him three attempts to make that one line work right when finally, a brave soul threw caution to the wind and opened his door without even knocking.

“Evening, my little cyber terrorist!”

It took him a moment or two to register another person in the room with him, a few owlish blinks to get his eyes to refocus on something a great deal further away than his beloved main terminal and the realisation dawned leaving him sagging back in his seat on a long sigh. Lovely. It couldn’t possibly have been EVE could it, no no, such was Q’s apparently staggeringly dreadful luck that he was faced with Alec’s grinning, unrepentant visage as the man himself settled altogether too comfortably onto the corner of Q’s desk and tilted his head to catch a glimpse at the screen Q was too tired to bother hiding.

“I take it you missed the notice on the door, as usual, then 006.” He muttered, slapping the questing hand away from the electrical scraps that littered his desk, half completed ideas he tinkered with when bored.

“Ahh no. Charming though it was, your lot assured me the odds of it being accurate were in my favour. Thought it was worth a punt!”

“Of course you did. You’re borderline dangerously addicted to adrenaline highs. To what do I owe the dubious honour of this visit? I was rather under the impression you‘d been sent home.” Q replied with a briefly despairing shake of his head before it fell into the comfortable cradle of his hand, elbow propped up on the arm of his chair.

“Got a bit caught up with some idiot I know that got shot, you know how it is, and then the nice lady with the very large sniper rifle asked me to tell you to stop taking swings at foreigners. She’s been getting phone calls.”

Frowning slightly, Q’s attention momentarily wandered back to his monitor, fully taking in what he’d been doing on autopilot for the last…god knew how many hours.  
“Oh…” me murmured, closing off a few windows and wow…what on earth had he wanted from the PENTAGON…that was a new one…  
“Well, consider me told, see, closed.”

Briefly, he turned the monitor in Alec’s direction with a vague gesture at it’s much diminished contents before altogether sharper eyes than his own, knackered ones caught a glimpse of…oh bugger. This was why it was better not to let agents into his office, they ALWAYS ended up seeing things you’d rather they didn’t! Admittedly, it was usually blueprints for new toys they desperately and immediately wanted instead of a darkened medical CCTV feed showing a sleeping double 0 agent, but you know, theory stood and all that. God, he was SO not awake enough for this…

“You know, normal people just go up and sit by bedsides…”

“I was just making sure the blithering idiot wasn’t DEAD. It‘s my job.” Q huffed, brutally closing the feed and ignoring the pang it’s not being there caused him. Better get used to it, he told the ache in his chest bitterly, because they were out of the looking glass again now and weren’t ever going back.

For a merciful moment, Alec was quiet, a fact for which Q was immensely grateful…until he risked a glance up and REALLY wished he hadn’t because the knowing pity in those eyes was HIDEOUS.

“You should get some rest, lad.”

Ohhh god that was WORSE than the pity, so much worse, especially when the friendly hand closed over Q’s shoulder and squeezed there for a moment, the leather of the jacket Q STILL hadn’t quite managed to take off creaking as Alec continued,  
“Besides, if you don’t go home soon, Eve’ll come down and probably beat you senseless for not leaving hours ago…”

Bloody Alec and his bloody CARING! How was anyone supposed to just crawl into a self made little corner and sulk in peace when this moron kept turning up at your weakest moment to remind you that you were human after all?! SODDING Double 0’s, all of them needed to just be banned from speaking to others, it was clearly the only safe way for the world to behave because…oh god. Now he’d gone and MENTIONED home, and the concept of sleep, all that filled Q’s mind was the knowledge that he would be UTTERLY alone in his bed for the first time in days, and how hideously wrong that would feel after all that time of James using him as a pillow. Bugger.

With supreme concentration, he managed to nod, blindly dragging his glasses off to rub at the angry red patches of skin they left on the bridge of his nose and pointedly ignoring the fact that his eyes burned. Wasn’t entirely just from the tiredness either.

“I’ll go in a minute…” There, speech had been obtained, he was winning! Now, he just had to get out of this conversation without sobbing like a teenage girl stood up on her birthday…

“Want me to drive you?”

A shake of the head this time, progress was being made, multiple responses, might even manage a coherent sentence in a minute,  
“No, it’s fine, thank you. I’ll get one of the company drivers out.”

Silently, Alec nodded and rose beside him, the hand slipping from Q’s shoulder as he headed back to the door and really, if he’d had any bloody sense in his head, Q would have let him go and left it at that…evidently sense had run away with his higher brain power, however,

“Alec, wait…can I…um…ask you something?”

“Of course, might not be able to answer you, but try me?”

“Did you…christ, this is going to sound ridiculous, but, did you bet James you could beat him with one hand tied behind his back? Before we left, I mean?”

The wide, chuckling grin that crossed Alec’s face made Q pause for a moment, frown crossing his brow as he attempted to fathom what was going through the altogether wonky, double 0 mind.

“HA! God, I’d forgotten about that! Bastard still owes me a rematch, he very nearly throttled me with my own bloody shirt even WITH one hand tethered! Why did you want to know?”

Oh god, another excellent question and those pesky sodding things just KEPT on coming up today didn’t they! If it still even counted as today, and not tomorrow. Wow, one day should just never contain this much soul searching, should it…

“No reason…” he managed, making sure his smile was at least passable, if not quite believable. Hope was a vicious, merciless bitch wasn’t it. Christ, shouldn’t have asked.

Evidently it was enough for Alec though, his considering nod and lazy wink the only goodbye Q was granted before he was left alone once more in his tiny, subterranean lair, in the middle of the night. 

Definitely home time, he decided with a jaw cracking yawn, he just couldn’t even hope to fathom a way to deal with tomorrow, or indeed, all the others that would follow it, all of them lacking in the one person he apparently had allowed himself to be dumb fool enough to fall for. Christ, it must be late if he was even thinking that one and not caring. Either that or he’d just fully handed over his brain to Disney and allowed them to turn him into the one princess that reality bit solidly on the arse. Served him right for being a fool.

Hell with it, he’d cope, it was what he did best and at least he had a week off to lick his wounds, sellotape his heart back together and come up with something resembling his previous life again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sharp eyed amongst you will now note this behemoth HAS AN END IN SIGHT! I think it'll all tie up in another 3 chapters...now watch me change that number later...
> 
> EITHER WAY, thank you all for reading, you make a huge difference to my day when you leave all those lovely comments :-)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IN WHICH THERE IS A HAPPY ENDING because AT LAST, this is finished!
> 
> OR NOT... because despite this being the end of the story as I wrote it originally, the Bruce to my Tony for whom this was written pointed out that frankly, I had CERTAIN THINGS that needed to be added in order for this to be considered complete...so you have her to thank for the two epilogues still to come. :-D
> 
> A HUGE thank you to all the lovely readers who have left me comments, kudos and generally stuck with me through all of this monstrosity of a thing. It's been an adventure and a half, writing 55k in six weeks, and one I've enjoyed immensely. I hope you've enjoyed it too, and that you'll continue to do so through the epilogues.
> 
> And finally, a special shout out to my Bruceybear, whom I blame wholly for this, and to ShadyQuiet, who is just awesome and has been wonderful throughout. <3

Having fallen into his empty, too big bed fully dressed and without even a second thought to anything other than sleep, Q was immensely grateful for the fact that his body had seen fit to grant him a dreamless, exhaustion based few hours of unconscious recovery before hunger dragged him back to the land of the living once more. Blearily, he grappled with the intensely difficult act of finding his glasses where he’d abandoned them the night before on his bedside table, hand fumbling blindly until fingertips discovered the cool glass and he managed to get the bloody things on enough to read the clock properly.

Urgh, god. How could it be ten bloody AM?! Surely he’d only got home a few minutes ago?! Although, in retrospect, he may well have still been on Bahaman time…

Taking a moment to mentally assess, he wiggled fingers and toes, checking everything was where it should be on his body. All limbs present and accounted for then, ok, good start. Now, all he had to do was get up, and reasonably quickly at that because the more awake he got, the more FILTHY he felt.

His face was killing him and evidently during his moments of barely conscious thought, his belly had decided to mount a revolution in search of food, since it sounded distinctly like a small war zone in grumbles. Apparently he was going to have to move, possibly burn the clothes he was wearing for hazmat reasons and eat something so he could knock back painkillers like smarties. That was a plan, right? Anything longer term than that was just…WAY too complex a concept to even think about right now.

Not that he was stupid enough to imagine for a moment that he was going to get away with ignoring it all forever, because…work, and ohhhh god he didn’t want to think about how much paperwork was currently backing up in haphazard stacks of things he’d need to look at when he got back. And there was all the data he’d retrieved to go through and…just no. NOT thinking about it all now because he was in serious danger of passing out from sheer hunger alone!

Thankfully, the shower was a welcoming, hot embrace of a GLORIOUS MIRACLE that took his mind off things for just long enough to put a tiny smile on his face even if the hot water made his face sting like a slap. He pointedly didn’t look at the colour of it sluicing off him mind you, his skin crawled enough at the thought of the filthy trail of clothes he’d left in his wake without seeing physical evidence of it slowly staining his bath disgusting colours, thanks!

Then, of course, just to really wake him up and knock that warm, if patently false sense of contentment right out of him, there was the HORRIFYING recoil that had him clutching the edge of the sink, wide eyed and staring at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. Jesus GOD…his FACE…no wonder Eve had been so horrified, he looked like Harvey bloody Dent after a bad day! Well…that explained the curious looks he’d got when he’d stumbled out of his office and through the night shift to go home then…and oh GOD, his neck was covered in sodding lovebites…and…those were TEETH MARKS…on his SHOULDER…

Had his head not already been throbbing, he’d have just taken to thumping it solidly into the wall, as it was, however, he settled for drenching the ragged mess of his face in antiseptic cream that stung more than the stupid shower had, his eyes IN NO WAY fatally attracted back to that bite mark against his pale skin. Fingers stilling on the mess of his cheek, he let himself stare at the thing for a moment, mind instantly filled with a vivid recall of how it had got there, James and his purring mouth and…. Ohhh this was not a helpful activity, the whole thing was still too fresh and…everything bloody hurt, from his face to the rather more metaphoric hole in his chest.

Fuck it, there were crappy, daytime movie channels on the tele and food. Food was definitely necessary, both of those things would make everything so much better. Well no, that was a flagrant lie, but it might at least take the edge off it enough to stop him whimpering into the steam edged bathroom mirror, that’d do for now, right? Right.

***

Curiously, with the quiet, Australian tones of Strictly Ballroom playing on the television and something other than rolling fear in his belly, Q was starting to feel marginally more human. Yes, alright, it could PROBABLY be termed a LITTLE bit pathetic. He could admit that, he was a big enough man to recognise his own EPIC weakness based moments, but fuck it, he’d earnt a day of behaving like a student again! God knew it wasn’t going to last, this desperately clawed at comfort seeking he was currently wallowing in would have to end sooner rather than later, but for now, it was doing as it always had and taking the edge RIGHT off a shitty bloody month.

Pausing for a moment, his eyes on the screen, he felt the corner of his lips tilt up at the ridiculously beautiful site of the dancers. God, the summer he’d first seen this, he’d BEGGED for dancing lessons for weeks, whatever Nanny-du-jour his bloody father had left them with eventually giving in to his incessant whining enough for him to get into a dance class after school for a heady month once the term began again.

Of course it hadn’t lasted, he mused with only a TINY hint of residual bitterness that left him dunking the last square of Dairy Milk into the tub of Phish Food wedged between his increasingly chilly thighs, especially not when his eldest, interfering ARSE of a brother had worked out the reasons for the late practises with the dance teacher were perhaps not STRICTLY dancing based…sodding FAMILIES, perpetually getting in the way of his fun. At least this time, it had only been his father who’d seen his utter humiliation, could have been worse. Given a year or two of repeating that to himself, he may actually believe it to.

Huffily, he pulled the duvet further around himself and reached for another chocolate bar. Sod healthy eating, he’d been more than willing to eat like a grown up, but no! Breakfast had left him distinctly under whelmed, hadn‘t it, so TOUGH. He entirely blamed the Coco Pops for just not giving him the HIT of sugar necessary to make everything seem marginally less godawful. What did they put in those bloody things now days anyway?! Where once you could have been guaranteed a bowl of chocolate based tooth rot, there had been merely a cocoa flavoured puddle of brown milk and a DISTURBING lack of sugar high when he’d merrily wolfed down two bowls of them earlier! Bastard things, even CEREAL was betraying him! Sod the entire bloody world!

Through the frozen crunch of tiny chocolate fish between his teeth, he dimly registered the muffled sounds of his phone ringing and dug for it beneath the duvet and cushion sofa nest he’d created for himself on autopilot. Mind you, if it was ANY member of his fucking family they could all just sod off! He was not at home to the Smug Brothers and their knowing bloody ‘I told you so’s’.

NOT. TODAY. Thank you very much, talk to the voicemail.

It was COMPLETELY irrelevant that they’d been wholly right about his eventual fall into the realms of besotted, they weren’t ever going to find out about it from HIM, and if M ever mentioned it…Q’s lip curled at the mere prospect of the level of revenge he’d unleash just as his hand discovered vibrating phone and he flicked the answer button with an ice creamy finger before he’d even thought about checking the number.

“Whoever it is, something, somewhere had better be hitting a nuclear meltdown or I’m hanging up.”

_“Good day then?”_ Eve’s rueful voice rather managed to deflate the self righteous anger Q had been merrily building and he slumped back into the sofa cushions with a long sigh.

“Sorry, I’m not feeling particularly shiny so please don’t tell me I have to come in…”

_“God no, don‘t worry, your week off is sacred. I just wanted to check you were ok, Q. Your face…”_

“Looks worse in daylight. I’m going for the Batman villain look this season, thought it matched my black cardigan rather well…” He paused, glancing down to pluck at the offending article absently and feeling suddenly incredibly young and stupid in the face of Eve’s calm understanding. Bugger. This week just kept getting better didn’t it.

_“It’ll heal, maybe you’ll get some sexy scars to use as a talking point at parties!”_ She said gently, and Q was forced to bite his lip as the gratitude rolled over him. God, emotional wreck really didn’t cover him this week did it! Right, better get a bit of a grip of himself before he started sobbing down the phone on a line that was probably being listened to by half his bloody department because that was just…no.

“I’d have to actually GO to parties for that to work…” He muttered, returning to his thorough demolition of chocolate and ice cream based breakfast.

_“Oh I’m sure you could persuade James to take you to a few! Speaking of, wanna talk about it yet? Because I’m all ears…did he do that thing with his tongue?!”_

Choking on a bit of Galaxy in abject mortification wasn’t the classiest of ways to go, Q decided, but of all the many and varied options he’d had thrown at him recently, it was, curiously enough, the most likely to get him in the end really. Poetic justice was an ironic little bitch wasn’t it! 

Coughing brutally for a moment, he managed to dislodge the traitorous chunk and attempt to find words again from croaking throat,  
“JESUS! EVE! No, I do not want to talk about it. Probably EVER in that sort of depth! Urgh…”

_“What?! It was a perfectly valid question! I care, caring is sharing, Q, caring is sharing…”_

“No, no it really isn’t! God’s sake woman, if you want a second go at him that badly, why don’t you just go and find him, I’m sure he’d be amenable.” 

There, see, he could be a grown up and watch James move on, it was easy. 

Oh god it hurt to even say it, felt like heartburn only more vicious and less spicy enchilada based and Q realised with sickening certainty that if it was this bad merely thinking about it, watching it was going to be a slow descent into hell. Wonderful. Maybe he should’ve let the chocolate win, god knows it had lost anything like the comforting taste it had held a moment ago.

_“And have you destroy my credit rating for even thinking it?! No thanks darling!”_ Eve snorted down the line, entirely oblivious to the fact that she was an unwitting participant on the line to Q’s quiet slide into the blankets, both ice cream and chocolate abandoned to the coffee table in favour or dragging the duvet over his head with the phone still to his ear and hoping it would just swallow him whole.

“Doesn’t belong to me, you can do what you want…” he managed, attempting an air of nonchalance so transparent it failed miserably to convince even him, let alone Eve, her voice suddenly going soft in his ear,  
 _“Oh Q…if you believe for a single moment you don’t own that man, Walther, Aston’s and all, you are quite mad and I will have to beat you with your own cardigan…”_

“At least wait until my face has healed please?”

_“For a genius, you’re a certifiable moron sometimes, you know that?”_

“Eve, please, it’s fine…I‘ll be back in a week, ok.” Because it would have to be, and really, he was ok with that. Alright, no, he very much wasn’t, but he WOULD be, eventually, power of positive thought and all that mindless bollocks the psych lot spouted. Who knew, they might even be right…maybe. Oh god.

_“Ok, but we are not done talking about this…”_

“Yes, we are, bye.”

There was something deeply satisfying about hanging up on someone, he decided wearily, even if it UNDOUBTEDLY meant she would just be all the more determined to bend his ear about it in the long run because by then he’d have a PLAN, wouldn’t he, and plans were good! They were like LISTS, lists were awesome, they usually got things straight in his head, maybe he should write a few now? The plan of action…he could probably manage some GRAPHS too, those always took his mind off things AND had the bonus effect of looking pretty, all of which were useful tools when attempting to distract yourself from some…

That bloody phone was ringing AGAIN! Bloody EVE, just never would take no for answer!

Snatching it from the warm cradle of his arm that it had slithered into, Q once more flicked the answer button without so much as a glance at the screen, the righteous indignation building beautifully,  
“Oh my GOD Eve, I told you, we are not talking about James SODDING Bond, alright!”

_“Well now I know why my ears were burning…”_

Oh fuck.

Scrambling about in the puddle his duvet had made when he’d lurched upright at the voice, Q fumbled for the remote, managing to hit the mute button as he shakily drew a breath and attempted to find some calm from somewhere. Find a happy place, like that beach bar where they’d danc…no, something NOT BOND RELATED, oh god…

_“Q? I can hear you hyperventilating, breathe, love, before you pass out…”_

“M’fine…” He choked out, clearing his throat because, seriously, grown up here, this should not be so hard dammit!  
“See…breathing and everything…”

Oh that was smooth. Like silk, really. Plus one to the socially inept right there.

_“How’s your face? Eve said it was bad this morning…”_

How in the hell…that BLOODY WOMAN! Dear god, she must have the pair of them on speed dial and just have flicked between them when he hung up! Right, that was it, no more upgrades to her work telephone system probably EVER! And if she thought she was getting that new tablet, WELL…

“It’s fine, it’s just…um…well, a hideous mess, but I’m reliably informed it’ll heal. How are the ribs?”

Smalltalk. Urgh, it wasn’t like he’d ever been any good at it BEFORE he’d fallen hopelessly in lo…no, let’s not go there again…there be monsters.

_“Painful. I seem to recall being promised a second emergency medical date in which things would be licked a lot…”_

“Yes, well, in my experience promises don‘t always hold up in the cold light of day.” The words were out of his mouth before Q had even contemplated thinking them and jesus, it made him sound like some embittered wretch, sulking on their sofa with ice cream and chocolate and…oh yeah. Bugger. So much for being a grown up then.

_“You know, for a genuine genius, you can be a real idiot sometimes. Anyone ever told you that?”_ and how was it even possible that James…just sounded AMUSED. More than that even… FONDLY so…

“I…actually yes, you’re the second person today as it happens…”

_“Not leaving. I‘ll keep saying it until it makes it into your thick skull too.”_ came the purred reply, and Q felt his chest squeeze painfully at the sudden realisation that perhaps, and it was a BIG perhaps, but maybe, just MAYBE, things weren’t about to go the way he’d first thought…

“Is that why you rang me? To tell me that? Because…I‘m really quite ok with that…” He murmured, clinging to his phone as if it held all the worlds secrets as he blinked, sightlessly at the silent dancing on his television.

_“That, and I bought a new car, thought I’d show you it.”_

A…what? Alright, so Q was pretty sure that at this point, either his mind had completely given up the ghost and he was rocking backwards and forwards in a corner somewhere, or he was actually living in the twilight zone. The good one, obviously, not the one with glittery vampires because that was just…ok, FOCUS…

“You…why…but…” Words were so HARD around that bloody man, good grief, even on the phone he was apparently capable of robbing Q of the ability to speak!

_“Come down and see it, Sherry…”_

Oh…unfair…so deeply, DEEPLY unfair because when that name rumbled through the phone in James’ voice it apparently had the ability not just to remove words, but also to make Q obey commands without a second thought because before he even knew it, he’d dragged on his tatty little Vans and gone racing from his front door. The stairs down from his flat passed in a blur before he was wrenching the front door of the building open to burst out into the street, and there, like some glorious, sugar high induced fantasy spread out of Vanity Fair’s pages was James.

Well no, that was a colossal understatement, because there was James in his element, the immaculate suit that fitted him like a disgustingly well cut second skin of cashmere silk blend, sitting on the wheel arch of a sleek, polished, NEW Aston Martin, one undoubtedly hand made boot propped on the tyre. Just for good measure, Q noted with a huff of what at any other time would have been laughter, it wasn’t so much as PARKED as pulled up and dropped into the tiny parking area in front of his building, back end lazily stretched over a double yellow line as if it were some reclining great cat, daring you to touch it’s swishing tail.

Dimly aware he was still clutching his phone to his ear, he dropped his hand, belatedly disconnecting the call and shoving the thing into his pocket as he took a stumbling step forward, his voice a hoarse mess,  
“Thought you hated the new ones…”

“I’ve recently been persuaded that not all new technology is without merit…” The smirk was back in full force, Q noted, in flat out denial at the way it made his knees weak. Bastard.  
“And your department were _terribly_ helpful in dragging it up to standard.”

“My depart…James, if you made my minions put ejector seats in that thing I will take the cost out of your pay packet…” Q was internally deeply proud that he’d managed that with a straight face since all he really wanted to do was grin like a child on Christmas morning, even if he was misreading the situation horribly…was he? Oh god…

He didn’t even get to the end of that thought before James was on him, lightning fast and painfully gentle as he caught at the ravaged side of Q’s face, nuzzling it delicately before pressing the lightest of kisses to the least damaged section and pulling back to meet Q’s glazed, wide eyes,  
“No ejector seats, promise. Just some minor computer based improvements…maybe a few electronic weapons…it‘s all yours to work on…” he whispered with a grin against ice cream and chocolate parted lips as Q struggled for air.

Oh god, did he really expect rational thought now?! It was just so hard to remember to BREATHE with James pressed so close like that but barely touching him all at once and just wow…he was so much better than chocolate. That was tantamount to blasphemy but Q just could not find it in him to deny it! Still though…some things needed saying even if it was done through a helpless grin,  
“God I love it when you talk tech at me…are you going to kiss me now or just wait for my knees to go, because…m‘pretty sure that‘s gonna be sooner rather than mpphhh…” 

Well, as ways to be shut up went, that was DEFINITELY Q’s new favourite, made doubly so when, as predicted he went slack against James, an arm was around his waist before he’d even slipped a tiny bit leaving him suddenly plastered to once crease free suit and moaning into the ridiculously hot, wet tangle of tongues that made up that kiss. 

“Your case is in the back, you left it at the office so you‘re handily all packed…” James whispered as he ducked his head to nip at the aging lovebites and Q was reduced to letting his head fall to the side to allow better access, a soft whimper escaping him when James unerringly rediscovered the bite mark with his tongue, nuzzling the scrappy t-shirt and cardigan out of his way as he went,  
“Are we going somewhere then? If you put me on another plane, I’ll send the bloody car back…” the only words available to him escaped between soft moans as Q clung to broad shoulders gleefully.

Apparently it was enough to drag James from his tender ministrations to much abused throat, those blindingly blue eyes watching him with heavy lidded amusement while a big hand wandered down to squeeze a healthy palmful of Q’s arse,  
“No planes, just you, me and the car…oh and Alec’s beach house with a bath tub in Cornwall. As ordered. You _did_ promise to let me try and I _did_ promise not to balls it up…”

“I did, didn’t I…” Q murmured, leaning up to lick kisses into that welcoming, delicious mouth as his mind began to click into place again, like the fog clearing on a chilly morning. He’d heard those words before, in James’ familiar voice…but not to him…

Realisation hit him like a stack of bricks and he pulled back with a sharp gasp even as James chased his mouth for a quick, tasting follow up before noticing the difference in once pliable body in his arms,  
“What? You look like you just had an epiphany, should I fear for the car?!”

“I heard you…talking to Alec on the plane…I remembered…”

“…Ahh…” And James…good god, JAMES looked almost SHY, well, as much as he could do whilst pressed basically entirely against Q with a distinct interest registering against Q’s hip at that. It was a good look on him. Not that anything wasn’t, but that tiny hint of vulnerability beneath the armour was just…beautiful…

“Still not leaving?” Q asked softly, hands sliding over freshly shaven cheeks to force suddenly evasive eyes back to his own.

“No. Not sure I could walk away even if I wanted to, and I’m far from wanting to.”

It took a moment for Q to gather his shaking breath together enough to form words, biting his lip for a second before he could summon the words past the lump in his throat,  
“Good. Me either. You, me and the car, then?”

“You, me and the car. And the Walther, obviously.”

“ _Obviously_.”

His watery smile escaped before he could stop it as he peered around broad shoulder to the ridiculously sexy Aston behind them, his eyes falling on the nose of it as his forehead fell into a frown. Oh good grief…surely James was not THAT daft…because that was just…did that REALLY say what he thought it did…

“Interesting number plates you have on that thing…” He managed, dark brow sliding up as James turned to glance back at the car, The Smirk TM firmly back on fully composed face, the pair of them staring in silence for a moment at the slab of plastic in question, emblazoned with printed letters: FINO524.

“I thought it suited her…” James said, a slack arm draped lazily around Q’s waist as they stood, staring at a piss poorly parked Aston Martin Vanquish as if it were the most normal activity in the world in a side street of Clapham, on a Tuesday morning.

“You may have to explain that…”

“Well, I’ve a weakness for the pale, dry and fortified. Seemed fitting.”

“I see. And the numbers, just randomly plucked from the air I suppose?”

“They’ve treated me well, lucky numbers, if you like.”

Utterly unable to keep a straight face any longer, Q let himself lean into the warmth beside him, grinning like an idiot,  
“You named an Aston after me and the hotel room number…you’re an IDIOT. God I love you.”

The hand at his waist tightened as James pressed a chuckling kiss to his temple,  
“It’s coded to your hand print as well as mine you know. In case you missed it, that means love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference for the non-brits:  
> [Double yellow lines on English roads](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Double-yellow_line)  
> [Fino Sherry](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fino)


	21. Epilogue 1: Meanwhile...back in the office...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for this whatsoever...
> 
>  
> 
> (The other epilogue that's still to come requires more tags, s'allll I'm saying! ;-) )

Q branch was having what they termed a quiet day and everyone else called “a spectacularly dangerous few hours”. That in itself wasn’t unusual, not every day was a high octane thrill ride, even in their game after all, but this one particular, quiet by their usual standards day had begun innocently enough, with the knowledge that their boss had been granted a week off by the higher powers.

Now, this had initially posed some issues, since…well, they all rather LIKED Q, and the office without him was lacking a figurehead in the constant and subtle abuses of power their kind were often occupied with in the name of queen and country. (Also fun, mind you, but you know, best not to advertise that one too much, the walls had ears in this place!) It had left them all rather DIRECTIONLESS in their day, if they were honest.

So badly were they doing, in fact, in finding ways to occupy themselves, that thus far, there had been three minor explosions (‘Weapons testing’. That was what had gone on the report, anyway.), a suspicious stain appearing in the main hallway (no one was taking the blame for that one) and some business with a hole in an airlock chamber that…well, it was best left not discussed, frankly.

A bored Q branch without their fearless (the flying thing was LOGICAL, ok!) leader was, apparently, a lethal combination of intelligence, volatile chemicals and an almost unlimited imagination for destruction. Something had to give.

“What about if we go for the FBI again, see if we can wake them up a bit?” Mitchell offered to the room at large, spinning in lazy circles on his desk chair as it swept across the office like a drunken galleon at sea.

“We’ve had four memo’s from Moneypenny about that in the last two hours. No. She threatened to cut off our biscuit money if we did it again!” Kate muttered darkly as the immense and hugely unstable ring binder fort she’d been building wobbled in the wake of Mitchell’s swing past her.

“There’s always the CIA?” Kevin piped up, he’d been sat under his desk for the last hour and as yet, no one had quite dared to ask what he was doing under there. 

“That was the fifth memo…” Andrea huffed, concentration fully on the four board wide game of chess she was playing against one of the modified roomba’s on the floor.

“You could always hack The Destroyer’s GPS and see where he went tearing off too with that car this morning…”

For a moment, all was still silence, the minions turning as one raised brow to the doorway at the mention of that, the most DREADED of people being spoken within their hallowed sanctuary.

“Do not come here and speak of HE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED…” Andrea muttered, the roomba already across the room and angrily attempting to shoo the interloper from their realm with a heady whirring of vacuum brushes and snappy, pinching arm.

“Oh come on, you can’t tell me you aren’t curious!” Eve grinned, stepping over the now thoroughly miffed roomba and dumping the large box she’d been carrying onto the nearest desk,  
“And I brought cakes, you love cakes…”

That, basically all of the minions had to accede, was a stark and undeniable truth. As was flagrant, pastry based bribery being remarkably effective in helping forgiveness along, for that matter, and Eve was swiftly ushered into the depths of their lair, Kate already dragging up the GPS locator onto the big screen as Mitchell hacked the CCTV feeds.

“Clapham.”

“Oh god, he’s not going to SHOOT something with those rocket launchers you fitted is he, Kev? Because seriously, I DID SAY I thought giving him that one was pushing it…”

“If he is, I am not doing the bloody paperwork for it! He swore on the Walther he wouldn’t use them unless on a mission…”

“What’s he doing in CLAPHAM anyway?!”

“Triangulating his position…”

“Moneypenny…why are you looking so SMUG?”

Once again, all eyes swivelled to her and Eve gave a beatific smile/shrug combo that instantly made all gazes narrow,  
“You know something…” Kate hissed around a mouthful of cinnamon swirl,  
“You know something we don’t know…you have INSIDER INFORMATION, don‘t you!”

“Don’t know WHAT you’re talking about…” Eve grinned.

“OH DEAR GOD…”

On screen, the CCTV feeds finally caught up with the GPS data and the entirety of Q branch watched in horrified awe as their boss was soundly and thoroughly kissed off his feet by James Sodding Bond.

“NOooooo!” Andrea cried, clutching the frantically flailing roomba to her chest in abject misery, pastry forgotten in the wake of the hideous view,  
“I had four hundred quid on the boss holding out another week!”

“Oh come on…” Mitchell snorted, already reaching for a consolation based cake,  
“After that stuff we got off the webcam feed it was NEVER going to be another week!”

“I TRIED to warn you all…” Eve’s cackle was smug incarnate as she perched herself on the edge of Kate’s desk and plucked a pastry from the swiftly emptying box.

“THIS is why we barred you! You know too much!” Kevin accused darkly from his slump into Mitchell’s abandoned chair, his pitiful lament tailing off when he sank his teeth into his cake again.

“Ahh, just in time I see…”

The addition of an unexpected, yet painfully predictable voice had them all groaning into their coffee cups as M strolled in and nodded up at the continuing footage gracing the vast main screen,  
“I believe we can dispense with that now, don’t you? Also any other footage you have kicking around from the laptop…”

“Yes, sir…but I firmly maintain sending them on that mission rather skewed the odds in your favour!” Kate muttered, killing the feed sulkily. All that beautiful cake and project based leverage, vanishing in the press of a button…it was enough to make you cry!

“Now now, no one appreciates a poor loser! Alright, who’s got it?” M asked, turning in the room to look at each face until Mitchell’s hand rose, the plain brown envelope clutched within it plucked neatly away, casually flipped open and the contents quickly scrutinised by M’s capable hands.

“Well…“ he began, a wolf like smile sliding over his face as he followed Eve to the door,  
“Once AGAIN, a pleasure doing business with you all. Although I will say, accounting gave better odds…”

It was only when he reached the door himself, the click of Eve’s heels slinking away into the distance that he paused once again, plucking a wad of fifty pound notes from his winnings and nudging them into Kevin’s shirt pocket with a little pat for good measure,  
“Stick that on 006 lasting less than a month before he gives in with Moneypenny, there’s a good boy!”

The grins exchanged in the room probably would have terrified most of the rest of the buildings occupants, M, on the other hand, merely cast them a wink and strolled out to spend his winnings. Wellll, bit of danger in a day just made it spicy, didn’t it!


	22. Epilogue 2: Beach house with a  bath tub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeaahhhh...there's really no way around it, this is just 3k ish of smut. It was necessary after 52k of foreplay i thought, no? :-D It seemed a fitting way to end this mammoth thing and does indeed draw to a close the behemoth that was my last 6 weeks. I have NO idea what I'm going to do with my downtime now...learn to knit, maybe?!
> 
> IT'S BEEN AN ADVENTURE, Ao3, THANKS FOR READING! <3

Sleep clung to Q like fog to London, but mercifully this, at least, was less damp and pea soupy and really more warm, INCREDIBLY comfortable and there was what felt alarmingly like SUN kissing his still closed eyes. That could mean merely the one thing and he smiled into the pillow, realising half way through the action that actually, it was less downy cotton and more the deliciously warm flesh of a bicep not his own.

Well, the morning was improving by the second!

Assuming it was morning, anyway. He’d rather lost track after the long hours in the car that even the novelty of being allowed to drive something that fast and gorgeous had failed to keep from sliding into eventual monotony somewhere around Wiltshire. Mind you, it hadn’t been all that bad then either, since James had laughingly told him to pull over before he put his foot through the clutch and driven them the rest of the way at speeds Q was pretty convinced would have triggered the bloody camera’s at every trap they passed!

Diplomatic plates, he’d said with a smirk that spoke volumes about just how much he’d persuaded Q Branch to provide him with before they’d left! Cheeky bastard had even made sure they had a ‘do not stop’ order on that ridiculous personalised registration too! Man was a genius, Q decided hazily, nuzzling into the arm beneath his head and stretching, cat like in the vast bed. A really crooked, sneaky genius.

“I can hear you thinking you know…” James purred against his ear and the grin against muscle spread wider, Q wriggling himself back tighter against the body behind him with a shameless grind of hips. He wasn’t about to hold back now, dammit! Not when he’d been handed this whole mind boggling dream on a platter and he’d yet to fully get his hands on…well…JAMES since they’d arrived so late and so exhausted the night before, they’d fallen into the bed and hit sleep in mere moments.

A hand appeared at his hip, squeezing to hold him there against a languorous roll of hips as James buried his face in against the faded bruises on Q’s neck and purred into his skin. The feeling of warm breath exhaling against his pulse in such a lazy, slow demonstration of need would have been dizzying at the best of times, barely awake and with the solid press of…ohgodwow…VERY naked and VERY interested body against his own, it was more than enough to drag a shuddering breath from Q.

“Morning to you too…” he managed, voice barely a breathless whisper that tailed off hopelessly into a soft moan into the arm he still rested against when James began a meandering trail of kisses over pale, bony shoulder, the hand at his hip slipping slowly down a thigh to curve behind his knee and hitch it up with tender care. 

It was probably testament to just how sleep dopey Q still was that he failed entirely to grasp WHY he was being positioned so. Then that big, callused hand was working it’s way back up again, smoothing over skin and finally closing with over his backside with a gentle, testing squeeze while James and his delicious bodyweight nudged Q over to rest on his belly, against his splayed thigh, spread open and loose limbed beneath wandering hands.

Once the thought had worked it’s way through the haze of sleep and mind numbing levels of pleasure currently rolling over him though, it was enough to make his back stretch on a lazy arch, eyes fluttering closed at the soft press of fingers into the crease of his backside.

The sigh of a name left his lips before he’d even contemplated it, James’ low, rumbling groan of response vibrating against Q’s shoulder as his fingers lifted and Q released a whimper, tilting a reproachful glance back over his shoulder. Now was so not the time for him to find restraint, because…seriously…

James, the evil, smirking, gorgeous BASTARD simply pressed him into the mattress (and OHGODYES, that was going to be repeated later, thank you) as he leant over, digging about in the drawer of the bedside table before his hand reappeared and Q could have cried in relief when he saw the tube of lube and little foil packet. That, however, would have required him to be a great deal more awake and coherent than he was currently anywhere near, so he settled instead for lifting his hips in a hopeful arch against the cradle of James’, revelling in the grunt and little thrust it brought from his lover…and god, wasn’t it just…unbelievably hot to even THINK that word.

“ _My turn_ , love…” James purred with a grin against Q’s shoulder, the soft snick of the lid being flipped just out of Q’s hazy, glasses free and sleep affected field of vision sounding over the press of a wet kiss against the stretch of Q’s pale throat making him shudder and fist a hand in the sheets. Oh god, this man would be the end of any grey cells left in his poor, love addled brain, and Q…well, he was MORE than okay with that, especially when the cool press of slippery fingers slithered back into the warm cleft of his backside and Q couldn’t even contemplate being able to hold back the long, shuddering moan at the feeling. 

“ _Jesus_ …you’re a TEASE, Bond…”

“Says the man with the coverall cardigans…”

A slick fingertip stroked at the pucker of flesh and Q huffed out a breath, arching into the slight contact hungrily. God this was going to be a complete white wash, he was painfully hard against the bed under him already and James…delicious, wonderful, talented James was apparently just getting started. Evidently, Q realised with a giddy shudder of delight, the bloody man had decided to just…take him apart, painfully slowly, with merely his hands and that clever, clever mouth that was working it’s way across the nape of his neck in nibbling kisses.

“Thought you…ngghhh…liked my cardigans…”

“Like what‘s under them more…”

That questing finger had finally breached tightening muscle, slithering into clenching heat on a long glide to the second knuckle before retreating again to join it’s mate, lazily smoothing against burningly hot skin. This was going to kill him wasn’t it, he was actually going to expire from Bond inspired pleasure…oh god…

“Still just me, love…” James was sounding annoyingly coherent…also smug, of course, but that was to be expected since he’d apparently once again managed to rob Q of an internal monologue. He was developing a nasty habit of that one…delicious bastard…something should really be done about that. Time to summon something resembling a brain and focus a bit maybe? 

Those fingers were teasing at him, agonising in their delicacy as they slithered back and forth before two of them dipped within the twitching muscle and Q was left groaning into the pillow as he shoved his hips up and back, forcing the bloody things to the hilt. Thinking might have to wait, at least until after James had stopped skirting around his prostate and sending shivers up his spine with lazy strokes that made his hips grind into the sheets in desperation.

“Do you expect me to… _ohfuck_ …beg, Mr. Bond?” Q managed breathlessly, back a tight arch as he pushed back into the touch, desperate for those light grazes to make solid contact and stop…TORTURING HIM…

“…You _cheeky_ little BRAT…” James grinned, breath a hot, wet rush against Q’s ear.

Probably should have known pushing the bloody great idiot when he was in mid seduction mode wasn’t a good idea, it had just been so tempting and…sadly that was the last coherent thought Q could cope with because a third finger joined the first two and unerringly pressed on that bundle of nerves until it was all he could do to drag air into his lungs and try to keep up without passing out from the blinding, all encompassing pleasure.

“ _No_ , Sherry, I expect you to come like a steam train…if you think can manage it…” James purred into Q’s ear on a hot lick.

Jesus, the words alone would have hit the target, combined with the heady press of basically all of James against his back and those FINGERS and Q was hopelessly shuddering on the brink, gasping in desperate breaths that turned into a litany of the one word left in his empty head,  
“ _JAMES_ …godPLEASE….”

“Going to have to be specific…”

Oh that BASTARD was grinning against his shoulder, and that was evidently all the encouragement Q needed to finally gather his woolly thoughts again because there was no way in hell he was going to let this go! He’d waited SO bloody long, he was absolutely NOT going to waste this most glorious of opportunities to get what he wanted!

Wriggling, he sank his teeth into his lip, clinging desperately to unsexy thoughts as he dragged himself free of that BLOODY HAND and clawed at the bedclothes until he was able to draw in a panting, ragged breath and cast a dark eyed, feral stare back at James. The effect it had was…wow…just wow, where was a camera when you wanted one because James went from casual, if lust drenched smirk to belly deep groan of abandon as he fell back to the pillows,  
“ _Jesus christ_ …don’t look at me like that…I’m not young enough to survive that much blood leaving my brain all at once…”

Well, when he put it like that, it was just a CHALLENGE…

Q wasted no time, diving in to attack the stretch of tanned throat with gleeful, nipping kisses that only grew more giddy when he realised James was LETTING Q shove him over. That sort of power over the man was surely not right, was it?! The thought of it alone was mind numbingly hot. Christ, it was delicious, JAMES was delicious, that odd tang of sandalwood and gun oil invading all of Q’s senses when he draped himself over the pliant, rock solid body beneath him, settling himself astride all that muscle where normal people had a gut.

“How specific do I need to be to get you inside me?” He murmured, licking his way into James’ hot mouth as he pressed his hips back and let that glorious cock slide against his slick backside.

“ _FUCK_ …” the gutteral, choked response did wonders for Q’s ego and he grinned into the heady, filthy kiss he was awarded, finally freed to gasp in air and watch as James scrabbled in the sheets for the foil packet that he’d abandoned earlier.

“That‘s the one, yes, _please James_ , just get on with it!” Q groaned breathlessly in response when big hands caught his hips to roll together once again before he was lifted bodily and dragged forward enough for James to be able to rip open the packet with his teeth and apply a condom one handed, without even seeing it…which…another time, Q was going to marvel over that ridiculously practised move because he had a feeling it should have been an after hours party trick or something. Not now though, god, not now, because those painfully blue eyes were little more than slits, so heavy lidded had their owner become and James was dragging him down for another hungry kiss.

Q barely registered the ease with which James moved him, but the squeezing grip on his hips that positioned him right where he wanted to be was enough to drag him upright on a shudder, pausing to look down at the panting, sweat sheened mess of James under him for a moment. God, that sight would be seared into his memory forever more because honestly, if a casual, relaxed James was enough to make his knees weak, seeing him like this, a coiled spring of muscle and lust beneath Q was stunning on levels he wasn’t even near coherent enough to fathom.

A callused hand reached up, cupping his cheek as the thumb smoothed over Q’s pleasure slackened lips, dipping into his mouth and flexing around the moan it drew from him,  
“All yours…” James purred, his voice a rumble as he cast an unsteady grin up and it was really only then that Q realised the blinding truth hidden in such a casual statement. The bloody man, he’d wormed his way into every inch of Q’s brain and more importantly, apparently the squishy, soft centred heart he’d spent years denying even existed.

Somehow, this was his life. Take that Disney, it wasn’t just the princesses that got the happy endings, fuck you very much!

That thought hovered at the forefront of his thinking for a second in the closest thing to laughter his love drunk mind was capable of, and then he reached shaking hands out, bracing himself on the flexing biceps his fingers closed around as he arched his back and sank, agonisingly slowly onto throbbing cock on a long, drawn out groan.

Dimly, he noticed a matching one vibrating through him where they were pressed together, but he was so beyond doing anything with that realisation that it took the loss of James’ thumb from his mouth for him to notice that hands were at his hips again, guiding them in a slow, glorious roll. Jesus, he wasn’t going to survive this, certainly not for any decent amount of time, anyway, and the way James’ hips chased his own on the upstroke could only mean he wasn’t alone in that.

Curse those BEAUTIFUL fingers for shoving him so very close to the edge, he might at least have been able to hold out if he hadn’t already been so open and desperate, but now, there was barely even a hint of burn to distract him from the frankly dizzying levels of pleasure that washed over him. It was only made worse…or better, it was hard to tell, so VERY hard to THINK…by the way James tilted his hips to graze at his prostate with every slick slide and thank christ there wasn’t a hand on his cock too because there was NO WAY he’d still be upright if there had been.

Done for and happy to fall, then…a snap of hips under his own that dragged a hoarse cry from his lips and after that, there was only the one, constantly repeating, wonderful thought left in his world,  
“James…oh god… _JAMES_ …”

Mindless and blind, white exploding behind his eyes, Q felt his back bow, nails sinking into the solid flesh under his hands as breath was ripped out of him with his orgasm, entire body shuddering helplessly. Dimly, he registered the shout of his own name in a shattered voice, James’ vice like grip on his hips that…god, please…would leave hand print shaped bruises he could press on later to remember. Better yet, JAMES could fit his hands to again when they were both recovered because this was DEFINITELY just round one as far as Q was concerned.

“ _Sherry_ …god you‘re amazing, love. Get down here…”

Words. Apparently they were needed which was so DIFFICULT because Q was floating blissfully in lazy, fuzzy edged euphoria, frowning and releasing what absolutely was NOT a whimper, thank you, when he was lifted and moved, robbing him of the softening stretch of James within him and leaving him sprawled over heaving chest and drowning in a wet, luxurious kiss. He was vaguely awake enough to blithely ignore James removing the sticky mess of the condom between them in favour of burrowing into his chest while hands moved and a well aimed throw in the direction of the bin made him grin into bullet pocked shoulder.

“This your nefarious plan all along, love? Wear me out and…” James huffed a breathless chuckle as Q decided it was beyond his turn to leave a few marks on any available flesh beneath his mouth.  
“Stake your claim?”

“Mine.” Q purred into swiftly bruising skin, his filthy smirk showing in his eyes when he looked up into amusement filled blue ones.

“So very yours…” 

Teeth sank into sweat gleaming pectoral and Q revelled in the groan it dragged from James, smoothing his tongue over the wound as he raised a cheeky brow,  
“Twenty minutes?”

Before he even really knew what was happening, he was flat on his back with the solid weight of James pressing him down into the sheets again, a broad grin taking years off his face,  
“Ten, you‘re exceedingly inspiring…”

Were he not very, VERY occupied having the breath kissed clean out of him, Q might have spared a moment there to feel smug, possibly even crow just a little bit because really, how often in life did you have such golden opportunities?! It was the sort’ve thing that should be celebrated, often and with verve, probably even CAKE, if he were honest! 

“You’re thinking again Sherry…”

“You love my mind…”

“Yes, I do…now let’s see if I can make it grind to a halt again, shall we?”

Well, there was really only the one answer to that one wasn’t there.

Oh _god_ yes.


	23. Mission Reports

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got conned into this? No, not washing with you lot? How about someone made cow eyes at me until it was added in? Inability to let go of a storyline?
> 
> Oh there's no excuse whatsoever. Just NONE. Have this needless addition and know I've been soundly coerced into writing more at some point *nod*
> 
> S. :-)

**INTERNAL MISSION REPORT  
To be filled out by all field agents and submitted to admin when complete.**

**CHECKED BY:** _Eve Moneypenny._

**AGENT CODENAME:** Q 

**MISSION CODENAME:** “That thing where we send Q out to get shot at a lot”?  
 _“Catch the Pigeon” - EM_

**MISSION OBJECTIVE:** Data retrieval from ‘secure’ source. (Intel need shooting, I suggest 007 for the job.) 

**INJURIES OBTAINED:** Harvey Dent face. Also my laptop got SHOT.  
 _Substantial cuts to left cheek from broken, flying glass - EM._

****REPORT:** **

Several nights of surveillance were necessary using a remote camera placed by 007 with which I was able to obtain entry codes to the compound and the allegedly secure system. Sadly upon arrival at the compound it became clear that in fact it was run by trained monkeys aiming to be the largest group of clichés in the area, with whom the term ‘secure’ was defined in a wholly different way to the rest of the LIVING WORLD. 

Walked into building, walked out with data. Sadly our visit happened to coincide with an unfortunate lapse in the exceedingly poor health and safety standards of the place and as we left, we were treated to a really rather spectacular pyrotechnic display of building collapse. Several servers were killed in action during this event and I would like to propose a small memorial service for them when I have returned from my week’s medical leave. They fought extremely bravely in the face of rampant misuse and stupidity and deserve to be honoured. 

Upon the arrival of 006 the following morning, it became abundantly clear that the owner of the compound was less than thrilled with our visit and we were forced to leave after a thoroughly RUSHED breakfast. 006 had provided us with a means of leaving the island in the form of a…tiny baby planelet, which sadly barely survived the take off when some morons with Kalashnikov’s decided to shoot ~~James~~ 007 and also wounded my laptop. (I only discovered this several days after our return due to the rigorous nature of my medical leave.) 

There was a slightly larger plane at some point and I‘m fairly sure we stole at least one car, then we were taken directly to headquarters for a debrief and sent home. 

I AM NOT BUILT FOR FIELDWORK WHERE THERE ARE PLANES. OR AT ALL. I NEED TEA, ALRIGHT. 

Q. 

_It is highly recommended that Q is not sent out again. 007 has threatened to ’get exceedingly annoyed’ and I think we all remember the last time that happened… - EM._

*************

**INTERNAL MISSION REPORT  
To be filled out by all field agents and submitted to admin when complete.**

**CHECKED BY:** _Eve Moneypenny._

**AGENT CODENAME:** 006 

**MISSION CODENAME:** It had a NAME?!  
 _“Catch the Pigeon” - EM_

**MISSION OBJECTIVE:** Save 007 and Q's sorry arses. Again. Not Q's, that one I only saved once. SO FAR.  
 _Agent and Primary Asset Retrieval - EM._

**INJURIES OBTAINED:** Extreme boredom, mild hangover.  
 _Self inflicted, minor - EM._

**REPORT:**

I have seen things I wish I hadn’t. There were zombies snogging and some henchmen with incredibly poor aim shot the crap out of a rather nice Cessna 172. Shouldn’t be allowed. 

006\. 

_I don‘t know what to tell you, Sir, this is all he‘d say. - EM._

*************

**INTERNAL MISSION REPORT  
To be filled out by all field agents and submitted to admin when complete.**

**CHECKED BY:** _Eve Moneypenny._

**AGENT CODENAME:** 007 

**MISSION CODENAME:** Catch as many bullets as possible with my body?  
 _“Catch the Pigeon” - EM_

**MISSION OBJECTIVE:** Shoot anything that attempted to go near Q while he fiddled about with some servers.  
 _Primary Asset protection during data retrieval - EM._

**INJURIES OBTAINED:** Minor fleshwound.  
 _Kalashnikov gunshot wound to left side, two broken ribs, one heavily bruised, mild concussion, pathological inability to report to medical - EM._

**REPORT:**

Bed was comfortable, bar served passable whiskey, locals less than friendly and the hire car company was appalling. 

Intel needs to be shot. I volunteer for the job. 

007\. 

_I give up… - EM._


End file.
